Short Change Heroes
by Tess DiCorsi
Summary: A threat to Los Angeles has the Office of Special Projects teaming up with an anti-terror task force to stop an unbalanced young man and wealthy young woman hell-bent on revenge. Post season seven - assuming everyone has their same positions, same relationships and same family members. Some adult language. Completed: August 28, 2016.
1. 01 - Short Change Heroes

**TITLE** : "Short Change Heroes"  
 **AUTHOR** : Tess  
 **RATING** : T (adult language)

 **DISCLAIMER** : I own nothing. Well, some shoes but none of the recognizable characters here.

* * *

 **SUMMARY** : A threat to Los Angeles has the Office of Special Projects teaming up with an anti-terror task force to stop an unbalanced young man and wealthy young woman hell-bent on revenge. Post season seven - assuming everyone has their same positions, same relationships and same family members.

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Chapter 1

"I can't see where you comin' from  
But I know just what you runnin' from.  
And what matters ain't the "who's baddest" but  
The ones who stop you fallin' from your ladder, baby."  
\- "Short Change Heroes" - The Heavy

.

Deeks was freshly showered and dressed, towel drying his hair in the NCIS gym locker room/bathroom area when his phone rang. The screen was red - Agent Needs Assistance Alert with Sam's ID photo and work cell phone number.

He raced out of the locker room, nearly running over Kensi doing the same.

"Ops, now," Granger growled as he walked into the gym. "We have a situation."

"How bad?" Deeks asked.

"Bad enough that I'm pulling you out of gym bathrooms. Ops, now."

Deeks didn't need to be told a third time.

Up in Ops, Deeks walked in steps behind of Kensi and Granger. Callen, Hetty, Eric and Nell were already there.

"What's going on?" Kensi asked.

"An Agent Needs Assistance Alert was sent from Mr. Hanna's cell phone three minutes ago," Hetty began.

"Could he have sent it by mistake?" Deeks asked.

"You have to enter your code twice to send it," Callen told Deeks.

"Do we have a location on the phone?" Kensi asked.

"We traced it back to Sam's house," Nell put a satellite map of Sam's Westchester neighborhood on the big screen.

"After 2010, we changed the software in the alert. When the Agent Needs Assistance Alert is sent, the location of the cell phone is captured immediately," Eric told the group. Time wasted trying to ping cell towers near Dom's phone gnawed at Eric while Dom was missing. He wrote the code himself and it is now NCIS software on all agents' phones - Verify Agent's Immediate Location - the VAIL protocol.

"Mr. Beale, there are traffic cameras on both ends of Mr. Hanna's block. Mr. Hanna also installed a security camera in the cable connect box across the street from his home after Tahir Khaled threatened his family last January. The camera's feed url should be in Sam's personnel file."

"Got it," Eric pulled up the cable connect box feed while Nell put up the traffic camera video.

"That black SUV in Sam's driveway of the house isn't Michelle's," Callen said.

"Can we get the license plate?" Deeks asked.

Nell zoomed in on the license plate. "There is an anti-detection film over the rear license plate."

"Black Mercedes SUV. There are thousands of them registered in Los Angeles," Deeks said.

"That's assuming it's from LA. It could be out of city or out of state," Granger added.

"Rolling back the camera footage as it drives down the block, both plates have the anti-detection film," Eric had the SUV on a box in a small screen.

"That's a 6:40AM time stamp," Kensi pointed to the video of the SUV pulling into Sam's driveway. "It's almost 8AM."

Callen exhaled loudly, "Sam may not have had access to his phone until just now. Nell, can you call Sam's house using my cell? Call Sam's landline."

"What are you planning Mr. Callen?" Hetty asked.

"Unofficial recon," Callen answered as the sound of Sam's home phone ringing.

After the fourth ring, Michelle Hanna's voice filled the Ops Center. "You've reached the Hannas. We're not able to come to the phone. Please leave your name, your phone number and a short message and either Sam, Michelle, Aiden or Kamren will call you when we can." There was a small pause followed by the entire Hanna family saying, "thanks for calling" and laughing.

"Sam, it's Callen. Where the hell are you, man? I'm with Kensi and Deeks at Patrick's Roadhouse and I'm having a hard time convincing Kensi to try the pigs in the blanket. You know Kensi, all yogurt, fruit and girly food. Call me if you're running late - I'll order for you." Callen signaled to Nell to hang up.

"Girly food?" Eric asked, taking a step away from Kensi.

"Suspicious messages need to have suspicious intel Mr. Beale," Hetty replied.

"Nothing more suspicious than limiting Kensi to girly food," Deeks told him.

Kensi was frowning but nodded in agreement. "Do we know where Michelle, Kam and Aiden are?"

"Aiden should be in school, Eric, can you check that?" Callen asked. As Eric nodded, Callen said "Michelle and Kam should be home."

A Federal Express truck drove down the street, giving Deeks an idea. Pulling out his phone he called Roger Bates. "Are you in trouble?" was the Lieutenant's greeting.

"Not me. Is Bernhart still driving the FillYourFridge truck?"

"He's been casing homes in Culver City with Jerry J's burglary crew all month. Put a guy in a uniform driving a branded supermarket truck and they blend into the background."

"Could you patch me through to him? We may need someone to blend into the background."

"He'll call you in five," Bates said hanging up the phone.

"Mr. Deeks?"

"We may be able to get close to the house. Matt Bernhart is driving a grocery delivery truck."

"I don't want anyone going near..." Granger started.

"He can fake a delivery to Sam's neighbor," Deeks interrupted.

Callen shook his head. "No, have him go to the house behind Sam's and look over the back fence."

"Is that wise Mr. Callen?"

"We need someone there tell us what we're walking into."

"He may also be able to read the license plate," Deeks added.

"Good point," Granger said. "The tactical team will be here to pick up Callen, Blye and Deeks in less than ten minutes. We need to know who is there and what's going on."

"Uhm," Nell told the group, "I may be able to help with that."

"Miss Jones?"

"While Sam and his family were in protective custody last winter, he asked me to help make some security modifications to his house."

"More than just the camera on the cable box?" Callen asked.

Nell sighed. "A lot more."

"Define a lot, Jones," Granger told her.

"Well, three members of Sam's SEAL team were in town the week before Easter. They had some surplus equipment."

Kensi nodded knowingly. SEALs took care of their own. "What did they do to the house?"

"Under the solar panels are a series of thermo-inferred sensors to detect anyone in the house and track movements."

"Can you access..."

"I'm pulling down data now," Nell cut Granger off. "And then there is the drone."

Deeks raised an eyebrow. "Sam has his own drone?"

"He bought the parts, I built it for him. Taught Sam and Michelle how to fly it. Created an app so they could use it on their phone. Kam loved it. I'm building her a smaller one for Christmas."

"Please tell me it doesn't have hellfire missiles, Miss Jones."

"Sam's drone or Kam's?" Deeks tried to break the tension.

Shaking her head at Deeks, Nell told Hetty, "No. Just a high-def camera,"

"How big is it?" Kensi asked. "Could we fly it into an open window?"

"About a foot wide, eight inches tall. It has a 4K camera, night vision capabilities and solar power batteries that can hold a charge for a year. It could be used to look in the windows but it's too big to go unnoticed inside the house. Sam used it to check on the place while he and his family were in the safe house."

"Of course he did," Granger said, shaking his head.

Callen cell phone rang - the caller ID was Sam's landline. Motioning to Eric, Callen answered the call. "Where the hell are you man?"

"Kam's got a fever around 102. Michelle is in Tucson tending to her Dad," Sam said casually. "I'm waiting for the babysitter. She's got two classes at Loyola this morning. And she may not want to even come over if Kam keeps throwing up. I'll know more later. Make Kensi eat something - force a donut or two on the girl."

"Two donuts sound just like what Kensi needs. Call me if you know you're coming in." Callen looked at Eric and gave him the cut sign. "Michelle's father died Beirut in the Marine's barrack bombing," Callen told the room. "102 fever, Tucson, two classes, two donuts – two people in the house."

"Makes sense," Granger said, knowing ever set of partners had their own codes.

Deeks's cell rang. "It's Bernhart. Can you put him on the speaker?" Deeks asked Eric. As soon as Eric completed that task, Deeks started, "Matthew, we have a situation here and need your help. You're on the phone with just about all of the NCIS Office of Special Projects. "

"Hello Martin's non-LAPD coworkers. He is terribly missed by his employer. How can I help my favorite federal agency this fine and lovely day?"

"It's Callen. Where are you right now?"

"Just made my last morning drop off in El Segundo. People put your 401K money in kale. FillYourFridge is selling it by the metric ton."

"If I send you a location, can you check it out?"

"Sure. I'm supposed to have a 45-minute break once my morning run is done. Where am I going?"

Callen nodded at Eric who sent the address to the home just behind Sam's to Matt Bernhart's phone. "I just need you to do a little recon work."

"Matthew, there may be a hostage situation in the house behind the one we're asking you to check. Don't freelance," Deeks warned his friend.

"But I'm good at freelancing. Real good. That's why I'm Bates's favorite. Or why he puts up with me..."

Kensi cut off Matt. "There are at least two civilians in that house, one is a child."

"OK, no freelancing. It frightens the children."

"Thank you Detective Bernhart. Please call us when you arrive at the address Mr. Callen sent you," Hetty instructed.

"No problem, official sounding person," Matt replied cheerfully. "Bernhart, out."

"Is he the best LAPD has to offer?" Granger grumbled.

"After me," Deeks replied. Turning to Kensi, Deeks asked, "Why did you tell Matt that Michelle was a civilian?"

"Keep Matt from grabbing Kam on his own because she's the sole civilian."

"Good point," Deeks nodded in agreement.

"I have eyes on Aiden at Keating. He's currently in a physics lab," Eric said to the group.

"Call Commandant Parker at the school. Security has been increased since last May but they may want to go on alert," Hetty ordered. Eric nodded and made the call. "The Tactical Team is standing by. Mr. Callen, what do you suggest?"

"Nell, what do you have from the inferred?" Callen asked.

Putting up a 3-D floor plans of the Hanna home on the big screen, Nell superimposed the readings from the inferred sensors.

"What are we looking at?" Deeks asked.

Walking to the screen, Nell pointed to the first of five red dots on the screen. "This is the smallest figure and the one closest to the sensors."

"Kam," Kensi guessed.

"According to the information Sam gave me in January, that is her room. In what looks to be the living room, there are four figures."

"That's the couch," Callen pointed to two figures. "If I was taking hostages, I'd want Sam and Michelle sitting there."

"And those are likely Mr. Hanna's uninvited guests," Hetty pointed to the two figures near the front door.

Deeks's phone rang. "Bernhart," he told the room before signaling to Eric to answer the phone. "What do you have? And remember, you're on speaker."

"Hey, first-time, long-time," Matt said, making Deeks smile but earning a shake of the head from Granger. "I'm at the Liu household. No Lius are home. Looking over the fence, I see a nice house with all the blinds shut or the shades down. All the windows are closed but a second floor window which is partly opened and what I'm guessing is a bathroom window because the glass is frosted."

"The open window, Detective," Nell started to inquire. "Is it an interior window, with what looks like a school logo in the lower right corner?"

"It's like you're here, whoever you may be. I could hop over the fence and get into that second floor window..."

"Matt, can you read the license plate on the SUV in the driveway?" Kensi asked.

"Yeah, Three, Madonna, Ringo, Prince, Six Two Four."

"Madonna? Ringo?" Granger whispered to Deeks.

"He's not a fan of the LAPD Alphabet. Sounds like he's going with one-name stars. Be happy he didn't use 'The OC' character names."

"Detective, sit tight," Granger said in his normal speaking voice. "We're sending a team and would like you to be our eyes and ears until we arrive," Granger said.

"Happy to help official sounding male voice."

As Eric started to type the license plate number, he received an alert on his computer screen. "The TAC team is two minutes out.

"Get your gear and get to Sam's house," Granger told the team.

"Matt, we'll be there in a few minutes," Callen said as he, Kensi and Deeks started to the door. "Stay on the line and keep our operations people apprised of any changes to the situation."

"I'm your eyes and ears."

"Miss Jones, I'd like you to join the team. If you've spent some time with young Miss Hanna, I'm sure Sam would like you to be involved in with any rescue. While she knows Det. Deeks and Miss Blye, a friendly face is always a comfort and more so to a child."

"Of course," Nell jumped up.

"And take my kevlar vest, I'm sure Mr. Hanna would want his daughter protected at all cost."

"On it," Nell said as she followed Callen, Kensi and Deeks out of the door.

Eric's computer beeped and a red window opened. "Uhm, Hetty, we have a problem with the Mercedes licence plate. A big one."

x-x-x

The ride to Sam's Westchester home was aided by Eric's skill with the LA county traffic system. Three black SUVs with the tactical team trailed the Audi with Kensi, Deeks and Nell. Matt Bernhart provided updates every five minutes that just confirmed the status quo.

Kensi pull in to Sam's rear neighbor's driveway with the lead tactical team SUV while the other two SUVs took positions on opposite sides of Sam's block.

"NCIS, welcome to the party, I'm Matt and I'll be your server," Bernhart offered as an open.

"No change," Callen asked as he approached Matt.

"No," he replied, looking at the team. "Why doesn't your vest say LAPD?" Matt asked, pointing to Deeks's kevlar vest.

"Not now," Deeks told him. "Are you armed?"

"Glock locked into a safe box in the truck. Hey, look at the gaps in under your arms with that NCIS vest. You're going to get killed," Matt continued, poking at Deeks's side.

"What's the plan here?" Kensi asked, hoping to change the subject.

"Get Martin a real vest. Geez," Matt said.

"Before that, Deeks, do you think you can get up to Kam's window?" Callen pointed to open second floor window.

Deeks nodded. "Sure, but I thought you'd be going, Uncle Callen."

"You'll be passing Kam down to me if you can get her out of the window. Besides, you're the king of the rock wall in the gym. Kensi, you'll go up once Kam is out of the house." Callen turned to Matt. "Does that FillYourFridge truck beep when you throw it into reverse?"

"Oh yeah. I can make it quieter or louder. The back-up beeper has three setting: nighttime, daytime and rush hour."

"Rush hour will do," Callen said, handing Matt a small case with an earwig inside. "You're going to pull into driveway of that home," Callen pointed to Sam's neighbor to the left. "On my say so, pull out beeping, maybe hit the horn if you can."

"Done," Matt said as he started walking to his FillYourFridge truck.

"What's the plan?" Kensi asked.

"You and Deeks make your way to the back of the second floor. There is narrow, non-carpeted staircase off the second floor bathroom. That will take you to the kitchen. Once you get near the living room, tell me. When I say go, you two go in through the back part of the living room, I'm walking in the front door. Nell, you take the keys to Kensi's truck, pull into the driveway of the house on the right side of Sam's. They have a low fence along Sam's house. We'll hand Kam to you, you put her in the truck and drive to the TAC team. Kam doesn't get out of the truck until we hand her over to Sam or Michelle, am I clear?"

"Absolutely."

Deeks, Kensi and Callen climbed fence while Nell took off with Kensi's SUV. Deeks was able to pull himself to the roof and walk with ease to Kam's window.

"I thought Uncle Callen would be here first, Marty," Kam said with a smile. She was sitting on her bed reading a book, holding her father's cellphone. "Daddy told me to wait here for either you, Kensi or Uncle Callen."

"Uncle Callen is outside your window waiting for me to get you. Whatcha reading?" he asked, hoping to keep things light.

"'Smile'. It is about a girl who broke her front two teeth."

"I had problems with my back teeth a while back. No fun"

"That's what the book is about. People are mean to Raina."

"They were nice to me. There are good people out there Kam. Speaking of out there."

"Mommy says not to mess around with the windows after I put the Hogwarts logo there," Kam said as she pointed to the window.

"I think today Mommy may be OK with this and if she yells at anyone, it will be me or Uncle Callen." Deeks backed out the window and pulled Kam to him. "And between you and me, the logo is cool." Deeks slowly made his way to the end of the sloping roof, avoiding Sam's solar panels, before he eased Kam down to Callen.

With Callen and now a kevlar vest wearing Kam hurrying to Nell, Deeks helped pull Kensi onto the roof as they returned to Kam's room. Sam's phone sat on Kam's bed. "You think she made the Agent Needs Assistance call?" Kensi asked.

"Knowing Sam, she probably knew how to make that call before she started first grade."

Gingerly, the two walked across the second floor hallway as they heard Matt pull his truck into the neighbor's driveway. Deeks was able to walk down the stairs quietly but Kensi had to take her boots off to make her way down. Once her boots were back on, the two made their way to the back of the living room. "In position," Kensi whispered.

"Can you hear anything?" Callen asked.

"Silent," Deeks whispered.

"Nell, is Kam safe?"

"Yes, Callen. We're in Kensi's SUV parked behind the TAC Team's truck. One of the tactical team members is guarding to the Audi. All good here."

"Matt, start backing up that truck. After three beeps, hit the horn long and loud. Kensi, Deeks, that's your cue."

"On it," Deeks said, nodding to Kensi.

Kensi and Deeks heard the truck start to move, on the third beep, the horn blasted. The two moved quickly into the living room while Callen used his key to walk into the house.

"Nobody move," Kensi yelled.

Sam was sitting on the floor with his arms raised, hands laced behind his head. A man with blood on his shirt and jeans had a Bushmaster M4 pointed at Sam. On the couch, Michelle was working on the lower leg of a pale and sweaty man. Blood pool on the floor as Michelle tended to the man's wound.

"Put the fucking gun down or I'll shoot him," the man with the gun told Kensi and Deeks.

"No you won't," Callen said, putting his SIG Sauer right at the back of the gunman's head. "You can get up Sam because your guest here is putting his gun down."

Matt Bernhart walked in behind Callen with his gun drawn. "I missed all the fun."

"On your knees," Deeks ordered.

After putting the gun on the floor, the man sunk to his knees, putting his hands up. "Fuck me," the man grumbled.

"Language," Matt scolded.

Sam jumped up. "Kam?" he asked, looking at Callen.

"A block away with Nell. Anyone else here?"

"No, just these two," Sam said as kicked the gunman in the gut. Watching the man bend over, Sam pulled him to his feet by his hair. "You come into my house with guns, with your filthy mouth, terrifying my wife and my child."

"Your wife is CIA and I tried not to swear loudly so you kid didn't hear anything," the man said as he took the punishment.

"Sam, enough," Michelle said calmly. "Kam is fine and I'm almost done here."

"What the hell's going on here," Deeks whispered to Kensi.

"Not anything I want to get in the middle of," she admitted.

Looking at Deeks, Matt mouthed "Sam's wife is CIA?" Deeks when Deeks nodded yes, Matt mouthed 'cool". "Who's the bleeder?" Matt asked.

"Not sure who my patient is exactly," Michelle said quietly, still working on the injured man's leg. "That's Damien Scott. CIA."

"Former CIA. I'm military intelligence working of Homeland."

"That's a lie," Sam said, pining Scott to wall of the living room wall. "Scott was part of a Delta Force Team back before the invasion of Iraq. He was found with drugs in his locker. Court martialed while we were taking fire from Saddam's Republican Guard."

"Planted. Framed."

"Yeah, sure," Sam said.

"So we still don't know who the bleeding guy is?" Deeks looked at the man on the couch. He was covered in sweat and barely conscious. "Maybe an ambulance would be a good idea."

"Wallet says Michael Stonebridge," Michelle kicked the wallet over to Kensi while never stopping her medical duties. "New York drivers license, couple of high end credit cards - Amex Black, Visa Palladium cards. No ID that would put him in the military or at Homeland. And the CIA is not handing out that level of credit cards."

"How did you get his wallet?" Scott asked.

"I did a lot more for the CIA than patch up your wounds on assignments," Michelle looked at her handiwork. "This man needs a hospital. The wound isn't bleeding much anymore but if anything shifts, he's in big trouble. There are bullet fragments sitting on his anterior tibial artery and if that gets nicked, he's done. He may be done anyway if he doesn't get help. He's lost a lot of blood."

"No hospitals." Scott told the group.

"Well then he's going to die," Michelle said standing up. "And everything you did to keep him alive until you got here and everything you did to my family was for nothing. I'm cleaning up and then I want to see my daughter."

Callen looked at Deeks. "Call for an ambulance. Scott here doesn't make the decisions."

"No, I'm just following orders and that stupid bitch hasn't called me back."

Sam looked at Scott. "You keep saying that. Who is the stupid…."

Callen's cell phone rang. "Hetty," he told the group before putting her on speaker. "Hetty, we've secured the Hanna household. Sam and Michelle are fine, Kam is safe with Nell."

"Miss Jones has been keeping Eric and the team in Ops apprised of your moves. There should be an ambulance arriving shortly for Captain Stonebridge."

"You know what's been going on here."

"Not the particulars, we'll be apprised of that when you return to the boat shed with Captain Scott."

"Captain Scott?" Sam said, amazed.

"Told you," Damien replied.

"Both Captains Scott and Stonebridge are working for a Department of Homeland Security Task Force. They are in Los Angeles looking for a pair of terror suspects. Captain Scott, you are to accompany the team for a full debriefing."

"Where the hell is Fitzgerald?"

"Director Fitzgerald is currently out of pocket, her office is coordinating everything. Agent Martinez is currently on a helicopter from Santa Barbara. She is going directly to UCLA Medical Center."

"I can hear the ambulance," Kensi said.

"The TAC Team is letting them in now," Nell's voice filled their earwigs.

"Mr. Callen, please bring Captain Scott to the boat shed. Mr. Hanna, arrangements are being made for you and your family while a crime scene clean up team is being deployed to your home. Director Fitzgerald's office promises anything damaged will be replaced."

Sam shook his head. "We're not going back to the safe house."

"Mr. Hanna, Director Fitzgerald's office is currently looking for acceptable temporary housing for your family. At the moment, they have a one bedroom suite booked at the Ritz Carlton in Marina Del Ray. If you have a hotel you'd prefer instead of the Ritz Carlton…."

"The Ritz Carlton is fine," Michelle said. "I'm taking a shower, packing a bag and getting over there now."

"Thank you," Scott said quietly to Michelle.

"Don't come into my house terrorizing my daughter, threatening my husband and then get all soft and grateful. You were a funny asshole in Khamovniki but that was almost endearing because my daughter wasn't there. We would have helped without the threats," Michelle said, shaking her head. Looking at Callen and Sam she said, "Get them out of my house."

The EMTs walked through the front door. "We're here for the GWS."

"On the couch," Michelle said as she walked to the stairs.

"I have to go deliver groceries," Matt said to nobody in particular.

"Thank you Detective Bernhart," Hetty said over the phone. "I have placed a call into your dispatcher explaining that there was a hostage situation and you with your truck provided immeasurable help. Your cover remains intact. Your assistance during this operation is greatly appreciated."

"Thanks official sounding lady. Get Martin a better bulletproof vest. And one that says LAPD," Matt replied, smiling.

"We'll be at the boat shed soon," Callen said before cutting off the call.

The EMTs gingerly moved Stonebridge to a gurney before rolling him out of the house.

"Kensi, Deeks, you two take Scott here to the boat shed in his vehicle. Nell, you wait here until Michelle is ready and bring them to the Ritz…

"Carlton in Marina Del Rey," Nell finished Callen's thought. "On it."

"Give her your keys," Sam said, finally loosening his grip on Scott.

"I'll drive," Scott said.

"Oh no," Deeks walked up to Sam. While Sam flipped Scott around, Deeks quickly placed handcuffs on the man's wrists. "Keys," Deeks demanded.

"Front right pocket, blondie. And I'm not interesting in you fishing them out. Maybe the brunette over there…."

Sam slammed Scott's head into the wall. "Shut up," Sam told the handcuffed man while he got the keys from Scott.

"Let me help you escort our guest to the car," Matt said grabbing Scott's right arm. Deeks took the left and moved their charge to the door.

Tossing Kensi the keys, Sam said "I have duct tape in the hall closet if you don't want to hear him during the ride to the boat shed."

"No, I drive with Deeks every day, I'm use to a chatty guy in the car," Kensi said giving Sam a hug. "Glad you're OK and I want some pigs in the blanket at Patrick's Roadhouse sometime in the future."

"It was Callen's idea but with Kam safe, I owe you all."

"You owe us nothing Sam," Kensi turned serious. "We love your family and we'll always keep them safe."

Alone with Sam, Callen finally asked, "You OK, big guy?"

"I went for a run early this morning, I was in the shower when these two came in through the back door like they owned the house. Michelle was making breakfast for Kam. Thank God Kam was getting dressed. She heard some of this but didn't see anything." Sam exhaled loudly. "They could have killed my family."

"Sam, you've spent the last year being hyper-vigilant with the threat from Khaled against your family. Hetty is probably going to want to talk to you about your heat sensors and drones but nobody believes you aren't protecting your family 24/7."

Sam shook his head.

"You think Director Fitzgerald is Genevieve Fitzgerald?" Callen asked.

"If it is, whatever got Stonebridge shot and brought Scott to my living room is bad, real bad. And yes, I think it's her. The Ritz Carlton in Marina Del Ray and a same day clean-up crew. There's one person in the government with that kind of budget."

Callen pulled out his phone. "Eric, can you get me everything you can on Damien Scott and Michael Stonebridge?"

"I'd love to but currently Granger is negotiating with Homeland. Running that license plate nearly burned down DHS. Our office is offline until Hetty can speak to a Director Fitzgerald. Granger thought it would be a good idea for me to go to the armory for shooting practice."

Callen hung up the phone.

"That's not good." Sam said. "Not good at all."

-30-

* * *

 **Author's notes** : Yes, I'm here with the annoying author's notes.

This is a crossover with a counterterrorism program called "Strike Back" than ran for a few seasons on Cinemax in the US (sorry, I'm not up on my international TV distribution). You don't need to know much about that series – I'm taking one of their cases but plan on making it work for Los Angeles. If you trusted me with a sci-fi/fantasy crossover last summer, this summer is more back in the realm of counterterrorism.

TLDR: Cool action show on cable that deals with terrorism meets cool action show on broadcast TV that deals with terrorism.

Posting schedule remains the same – internet willing. New chapter out every Sunday until we're done.

Thanks for reading!


	2. 02 - The Devils Are Here

**Chapter Two:** "Hell is empty and all the devils are here."― William Shakespeare, The Tempest

* * *

"Where the fuck is this? What the fuck is this?" Damien Scott said as he was marched through the boat shed and into the interrogation room by Kensi and Deeks. Looking at Hetty as she leaned near the desk by the door, he added, "Who the fuck are you?"

"That's the attitude that's not helping your ride-long case to take the handcuffs off," Deeks said as he sat Damien on the bad side of the interrogation table.

"Captain Scott, you've had a difficult morning and I'm sure that is playing a large role in your peevish disposition so let me answer some of your concerns while Detective Deeks removes your handcuffs," Hetty said as she nodded to Deeks.

"Peevish?" Scott sneered.

After Deeks uncuffed Damien, Hetty continued. "Captain Scott, you are currently in Marina Del Rey. This is a highly secure government facility used by the Office of Special Projects, a part of the Naval Criminal Investigative Service. And I am Henrietta Lange, the OSP operations manager. You already know Detective Deeks, our LAPD liaison and Agent Blye."

"She drives like a lunatic," Damien pointed to Kensi. "And blondie here needs a haircut."

"Agent Blye has completed a myriad of tactical vehicular evasion courses at Glynco, Cheltenham, Artesia, Bangkok and right here in Los Angeles. You were in excellent hands during your ride here. As for Detective Deeks, this is an undercover unit and his unique grooming choices provide an excellent alternative look to those of Agents Callen and Hanna. Now I have brought you a change of clothing, clothing I would like back. I would imagine you'd like to wear a shirt and pants not covered in Captain Stonebridge's blood." Hetty passed him a tee-shirt and a pair of jeans.

"Where did you get these?" Damien looked at the jeans and shirt, noting the sizes.

"Director Fitzgerald's office provided some data, credit card transactions provided other information and I have an eye for what looks good on a man." Hetty made her way to the door. "We will leave you to change. Director Fitzgerald's office will be advised once Agents Hanna and Callen arrive. And Captain Scott…"

"Yeah," Damien said.

"Commander Rehme from the Honos Project recommends you keep your middle finger to yourself," Hetty told him as she left the room with Deeks and Kensi starting to follow.

"You sure you don't want to help me change, Captain Blye?" Damien asked as he stood from the table, smiling at his own joke.

Kensi turned and smiled. Walking toward Damien she cooed, "Captain Scott, do you need a little help?"

"After the morning I've had," Damien started but was quickly silenced. Kensi pushed Damien's recently vacated chair against the wall as she made her way to him. Once she passed the chair, she took the tee-shirt off the table and walked up to Damien. In a sudden move, she wrapped the shirt around Damien's head and jerked it forward. Causing Damien to bend over, she kneed him in the gut.

"Fuck me," he coughed out as he hit the ground.

"I prefer men who can dress themselves," Kensi said walking out of the room.

Deeks followed smiling back at Damien. "For the record, she spells it B-L-Y-E, not B-L-I-G-H."

Walking into the main area of the boat shed, Kensi and Deeks found Eric on the monitor with Granger standing just behind him. Hetty was at the table in the center of the room.

"Director Fitzgerald should be in her office in five minutes according to her assistant," Granger said. "She'd like to speak to the team and Captain Scott when everyone has arrived."

"Miss Jones just dropped off Michelle and Kamren Hanna at the hotel so she should be here presently. Do we have an ETA for Agents Callen and Hanna?" Hetty asked.

"Just behind you," Sam said as he walked into the boat shed with Callen and Nell. "We went with my family to the hotel."

"How nice is the room?" Deeks asked.

"Nice, but not as a nice as my house."

"You did have a nice house, at least what I saw of it," Damien Scott said entering the room. "Thank you for the clothes," he said to Hetty.

"I have Director Fitzgerald," Eric told the group before Sam could react to Damien.

On the monitor, a slight woman in her mid-forties appeared sitting in an operations room. Wearing an tailored black Max Mara suit with a blood-red cashmere top and her long, light brown hair tied back into a ponytail, Genevieve Fitzgerald looked up to someone off-camera. "Commander, I don't have a picture."

"Oh, I see you," Damien yelled at the screen.

"Damien, I just got off the phone with Kim, she was at UCLA when Michael arrived. He's doing well," Genevieve told him. Again, she looked off-screen. "Still no video."

"So glad Mikey's doing fine. He'd probably be better if you answered your fucking phone when he was shot. I wouldn't be in this fucking funhouse with these fucking feds if you answered your fucking phone," Damien told her. "Where the fuck were you? Goddamn business brunch? Fucking fashion week? A cotillion?"

With a small shake of her head, Genevieve leaned back in her chair and smiled peacefully. "Damien, I want you to answer one question before I tell you about my morning...'cotillion' – was that on a word of the day calendar or did Michael teach you that word?"

"Fuck you," Damien said, giving her the finger.

"It is always such a delight to speak to you," Genevieve said sweetly. With her tone turning to steel, she started to recap her day without ever raising her voice. "As for where I was this morning, I was in a fucking federal holding cell. While I was trying to get a fucking FISA warrant from fucking Federal Judge Tobin, my fucking phone rang. Since fucking Federal Judge Tobin is the in the middle of a fucking ugly divorce, he decided to make me his fucking wife substitute and complain about women and their fucking phones. When I told him I had to answer it, he had a fucking fit. When I told him it was my Homeland fucking phone, he held me in contempt. When I wouldn't give him my phone, both my fucking phone and I were sent to a fucking holding cell. Surprise, no fucking wifi or cell service there. Eli saw me being fucking frog-marched into custody so he got back to the fucking office and got the office to try to get me released. And while I more than understand you had a far more fucking awful morning than I did, I wasn't at a fucking cotillion or fucking fashion week."

"Oh," Damien said.

"If you still have your phone," Genevieve said, anger spent. "I've sent you the address of the new crib. Since you brought NCIS's Office of Special Projects into this, they'll be joining the task force. You go get some sleep and check in on Michael tonight. In the meantime, I'm going to get whatever is wrong on my end fixed so I can see who I'm speaking to and apologize for the f-bomb shower. While that's happening, I'm also going to take a real shower. I smell like federal lock-up."

"What does federal lock-up smell like?" Deeks asked.

"Crooked stockbroker flop sweat, underwater mortgages and cocaine psychosis. I will be available in 10-minutes." Genevieve gave a wave of her hand and was gone from the screen.

Damien's phone chimed. He looked at it and then Kensi. "Can I get my keys back?"

Kensi tossed the keys to him. "I'm sorry your partner was shot." She knew how that felt.

"Yeah. Sorry for all the trouble this morning," Damien mumbled.

"Captain Scott," Hetty said. "You've gotten off on a bad foot with this office but the fact that Director Fitzgerald has you on a task force speaks volumes of your skill. I assume she will have us working together and I believe everyone in this room will do what needs to be done to make this task force work."

"Great," Damien said as he walked away before uttering "fuck me," as he left the boat shed.

"Hetty, do we need to work with him?" Sam started to complain. "He was thrown out of Delta Force just before the start of the Gulf War for drugs."

"Director Fitzgerald's office sent over the unclassified sections of Captains Scott and Stonebridge's backgrounds. Both are highly trained and highly efficient operators. Damien Scott was framed for opium possession when he discovered politicians in neighboring countries were transporting WMDs into Iraq to confirm the basis of the war."

"No WMDs were ever found," Kensi said.

"No, Miss Blye. They were stolen in the chaos after the invasion and used in Hungary a few years ago. Scott's dishonorable discharge not only took him out of the military, it made him untouchable by the military contractors."

"But set him up perfectly for the CIA," Callen noted.

"Yes. He worked for them for a while before dropping off the grid. He reappeared during a hostage situation in New Delhi. He invited to join Section 20."

"Section 20?" Deeks asked. "I've heard of a Section 8…"

"It is part of British Defense Military Intelligence. The DI," Granger said. "Section 20 was a high risk/high reward, priority mission/priority target unit of the DI. They didn't technically exist."

"So any actions that failed could be disavowed." Callen knew the drill.

"Oh they existed," Nell said. "I tracked their movements since I was working at the Navy Yard. Didn't know the name of the personnel involved but they took down terrorists in India, Pakistan, South Africa, Russia and North Korea."

"Oh, that's not the half of it," Genevieve Fitzgerald appeared on the screen. Leaning against the front of her office desk with the Brooklyn Bridge visible outside her office window, she was now wearing a navy blue Elie Tahari sheath dress and her hair in a reverse French braid. "Section 20 got things done."

"And now they're working for you," Sam said.

"Yes, Chief Hanna and I'm sorry to see you again under these circumstances," Genevieve explained. "It seems someone in my office, who is about to have a stern talking to, gave Michael and Damien a list of CIA operatives in the U.S. in case there was trouble and they were cut off from my office. Your wife was on that list. Michelle's name will be removed from all list of CIA personnel as soon as I finish speaking sternly to my intelligence analyst."

"You know Sam?" Callen asked.

"Actually, now that I can see you all, I know Detective Deeks, Assistant Director Granger, Chief Hanna, Operations Manager Lange and Agent-slash-Analyst Jones."

Kensi looked at Deeks, who shrugged. "I knew people before I knew you," he told her.

Genevieve continued. "I'd also like to apologize for this morning's conversation with Damien devolving into an episode of "Deadwood". Damien is a great soldier and has performed his duties for my office above and beyond the call but he has a rather limited vocabulary that shrinks even more during times of crisis. Chief Hanna, my operations manager is currently on the phone with your wife and your home should be cleaned with a new couch before the week's end. She's being given a number to call if your accommodations are lacking and a change is needed."

"Thank you."

"As for the rest of you, I spoke with Director Vance several days ago when Damien, Michael and Kim were sent to California to search for two persons of interest. I thought we may have needed help then, I'm sure of it now."

"Director, who is Kim?" Hetty asked.

"DEA Agent Kim Martinez," Genevieve explained. "Agent Martinez spent about 18-months with Section 20 after running a four-person operation in Columbia investigating the Gomez Cartel. Martinez was a Marine MP in Iraq before the DEA. Tough, smart, general badass. The three of them were doing some intelligence work that obviously fell apart this morning, accelerating the need for your help."

"What's the case?" Granger asked.

Genevieve nodded to someone off screen. A photo of a man in his early 20's and a woman in her late teens appeared. "The male person of interest is named Brandon Bryant. Trust-fund kid. Son of movie producer David Bryant and actress Cindy Greer."

"She died a while back, didn't she?" Eric asked.

"Yes. She had drug and alcohol issues. David Bryant always had primary custody of his son and looks like he worked hard to get his ex-wife help with no success. David Bryant sent Brandon to the best private elementary schools in LA and then The Thacher School. Did a few semesters in a series of "daddy wrote a check to get me in" colleges. When David Bryant and wife number four died in a car wreck on the PCH last winter, Brandon got all of the money his mother left him and the first of four installments of his father's estate."

"How much money does the kid have?" Sam asked.

"Even though they were divorced, David Bryant had a good relationship with Cindy Greer. He invested her money well while she was dealing with her issues over the years. Once she was dead, he was the legal caretaker of her financial accounts, her movie profits and her copyrighted images. Our forensic accountant believes Cindy Greer's estate is worth around six or seven million and throws off another half-million a year. The first installment of David Bryant's estate, however, we think is five times that."

Deeks sighed. A lot of good could be done with that kind of money. "So whatever he's doing is well financed."

"Yes," Genevieve nodded. "But he's the lesser of the two problems here. The young woman is named Ester Kamali."

"She looks like a kid," Sam noted.

"She's 19. A hard 19."

"She's Leo Kamali's daughter," Granger said.

"Yes. And that's the problem." Genevieve told the group.

"Who is Leo Kamali?" Kensi asked.

"Was. Leo Kamali was many things. British citizen, undercover CIA Agent, money man for the Al-Zuhari terrorist network, advisor to Section 20 and oh yeah, financer of a project to make a weaponized small pox virus – all of those things at once for a while." Shaking her head, Genevieve said, "Honestly, the CIA has worst taste in men."

"He was killed by Section 20," Hetty read from the file.

"The entire Kamali affair was British Intelligence in a nutshell. If they didn't do it, it didn't happen. I half think they're still looking for Bin Laden since they didn't kill him," Genevieve's voice dripped with condescension. "US military and civilian intelligence agencies had confirmation in January of 2013 that an Israeli drone strike on a Syrian chemical facility killed Al-Zuhari and his top people except for Kamali, who happened to be in Switzerland making himself the owner of the Al-Zuhari bank accounts."

"Did he tip off Mossad?" Sam asked.

"If he didn't, he was the luckiest guy on the planet. Mossad had an operative very close to Kamali. The terror network was being financed by drugs being run from Russia, Afghanistan and Columbia. Mossad wanted to follow the money to see what else it was paying for. Their plan was to grab Kamali on a visit to Israel but the Mossad operative was killed in Columbia."

"Kamali?" Granger asked.

"Gomez Cartel." Genevieve answered. "But don't undersell Kamali. He was responsible for the death of several members of Section 20, medical test subjects in Russia and a train full of NATO personnel in Germany."

"Kamali was behind the train bombing outside of Berlin?" Nell asked.

"The train wasn't bombed. Kamali with a Russian drug dealer, a bunch of wannabe IRA members, a Japanese scientist and a few other wonderful human beings figured out a way to weaponize small pox. They released it in a train car with the NATO staffers as a test. Damien actually caused the explosion to keep them from traveling into Berlin. That allowed Section 20 to sell it as a bombing. Everyone exposed to the small pox on the train was dead in two days. Kamali created a stronger and faster moving strain of the virus."

There was a stunned silence in the room.

"With the successful NATO test, Kamali tried to do the same in Ramstein," Genevieve explained. "He tried to get it into the ventilation system through the base, the hospital and the airport. There were hundreds of military members traveling through the airport alone."

"So the military members would be infected waiting for a flight and bring small pox to the world." Hetty shook her head in disgust.

"Exactly. Hundreds of members of the military pass through the base every hour in just the airport alone. Soldiers going home would be traveling to the States and then going to LAX, JFK, Reagan, O'Hare, DFW. Others on military assignments would be flying to Italy, Belgium, Portugal, Japan, the Philippines, South Korea. You get the idea."

"Terrifying." Nell mumbled before asking, "Why did he do this?"

"Revenge. Kamali was based in Lebanon. He married an American woman, a Dina Harris, who was a doctor with an NGO. At this point, Kamali was working his way up both the CIA and terrorist career ladder. About eight months pregnant with Ester, Dina had complications. Ambulance to the hospital was hit by a missile. The Israelis swear they weren't firing on Lebanon that day, Hezbollah swore they weren't firing missiles either. Dina Kamali was wounded. The EMT delivered the baby – Ester – but the driver was dead and the vehicle never moved. Dina bled out before help could get there. His anger about her death fueled everything he did for the CIA and for his clients after that."

"All very tragic. Is Ester picking up her father's cause?"

"In a way but not how you think, Hetty. This is how her father died." Genevieve nodded to someone off screen.

On the screen, security cameras provided video footage of a large plaza in Berlin in 2012. Scott and Stonebridge were walking near a man carrying a small briefcase. An exchange was made when in the center of the plaza with a number of civilians all around. Stonebridge opened the case with Scott pointing to the man who had the briefcase.

"That's Kamali," Genevieve provided 'play-by-play' when the video was paused. "In his hand is a canister of small pox. Watch up in the right corner."

The video restarted. After Scott and Stonebridge ridded themselves of a pair of attackers, an older man highlighted on the video now had a gun pointed to the back of a young girl. Suddenly, the older man was felled by a sniper.

"The young girl is Ester Kamali," Hetty surmised.

"Correct," Genevieve said as the video continued. "And now she gets to see several members of Section 20 shoot her father before he can infect dozens of innocent civilians with small pox." As Ester ran to her dying father, Stonebridge took a necklace from her. "Her father gave her the cure held in a vial on that necklace while he held on to virus. He inoculated her before the happenings in plaza."

"How old was she?" Sam asked.

"At the time, 14. Nobody should see anyone die ever. A kid barely a teenager with no mother, a nanny who died a few weeks earlier trying to prevent Ester from being kidnapped by an arms dealer and now a terrorist father." Genevieve sighed, "This is all bad."

"What happened to the girl after this?" Granger asked.

"The DI took a lot of the Al-Zuhari funds. Paid off a lot of people to keep things like the NATO train incident quiet. There were two members of Section 20 murdered by Kamali – one had a kid so the child got some money for college. Ester got a small inheritance left by her mother and was shipped off to live with her mother's sister out in Beverly Hills."

"Is that where she met Brandon Bryant?" Kensi asked.

"Hard not to, they were living in the same house. Eve Harris Bryant was the fourth and final Mrs. David Bryant," Genevieve put up a photo of the Bryants with Ester wearing a private school uniform on the screen. "Everything was happy and going well according to Ester's friends at the Marlborough School."

"Pricey," Deeks noted.

"Probably $40K a year. Eve Harris produced reality television shows. Money was not an issue. There weren't a lot of issues until about eighteen months ago when Brandon failed out of UT-Austin. That was after leaving Yale because it was cold, Stanford because it was boring and USC because it was too close to home. David Bryant thought if his son wasn't going to take college seriously, he was going to get a job. David got Brandon a retail sales gig at the Rivera Country Club's pro shop. That did not go over well according to family friends."

"Let me guess," Sam said. "Not into college, not into working."

"Oh, he wanted to work. He wanted to be a movie producer like his old man, forgetting that the old man started off as a go-fer on Spielberg's "1941" bomb where he did everything from making sure John Belushi had Marlboro Reds in his dressing room trailer and picking up Nancy Allen's dry cleaning. No, Brandon wanted all the success his father earned without actually earning it."

"The accident that killed them, is it suspicious?" Callen asked.

"Odd is a better term," Genevieve explained. "The Bryants had a regular table at Nobu on Thursdays. David Bryant wasn't much of a drinker, neither was Eve. They had their usual expensive sushi and some overpriced bottled water. Said their goodbyes. Got into his convertible, drove down the PCH and plowed his Jaguar 2014 F-Type into an electrical pole just before the 76 gas station. He died instantly, she was alive when the EMTs got there, not when they got to the hospital. I can't prove anything – the car was fine, tox screens were clean, the restaurant was as cooperative as they could be but the timing is just a little too convenient."

"So how does coming into all this money and Ester bring a task force with two former DI officers to Los Angeles?" Hetty asked.

"Ester sided with Brandon against her guardians. Her friends said she started pulling away from them and her college plans in senior year. She went from a straight A student with early admission plans for Harvard – her father's alma mater – to a solid C in her final semester and a year-long deferment before Harvard. Ester told one friend she was going to Harvard to see if the CIA would recruit her and she'd burn the agency to the ground. Another friend said Ester thought her father was killed by English and American soldiers and she wanted to pay them back. A third said she liked Scott and Stonebridge and wanted to return home to Beirut. Then there's this," Genevieve said as a foreign document appeared on screen.

"Certificate of marriage," Sam translated.

"Ester and Brandon got married?" Hetty was surprised.

"We think they did. We don't have the best contacts in Beirut and the names are a little off. Ester returned to Beirut after her aunt died to get some papers her father's legit lawyers had for her and to see some old childhood friends. She just turned 18. Brandon was supposedly visiting friends working on a Marvel movie in Budapest and was in Beirut on the dates of the marriage license."

"This is bad," Deeks said, more to himself than the room.

"Brandon has money and wants more. Ester is looking for revenge. Re-weaponize the small pox virus or something equally awful, have the cure and open for business. Sell the virus to ISIS or some other group. Sell the cure for top dollar and watch the world die."

"How did this come to your desk?" Granger asked.

"Past history between Scott, Stonebridge and Martinez is part of it. The idea was to get Damien and Michael into LA and Kim up in Santa Barbara. That was the last place anyone saw Brandon and Ester. His mother owned a small beach house and they were there as late as last Tuesday. While Kim was looking for them, Damien and Michael were supposed to find a bio-chemical engineer grad student who got tossed by MIT when the school found out he was the East Coast's Walter White. He got a half-million-dollar infusion of cash last month from Brandon."

"What did they find?" Callen thought was a test to see if the government was on to whatever Brandon and Ester were planning.

"Meth. From the little I've heard from Damien that didn't include the F-word, the two of them walked into a meth lab that had four armed guards and two chemists. Now it has four dead guards, a dead former MIT Walter White wannabe and one semi shot-up chemist who is in a lot of trouble. The DEA is handling everything and we're back to zero."

"Do you think it was a set-up?" Callen thought it was.

"Yeah, we were played. That's what the FISA warrant was for – I want access to Brandon's financials in several offshore banks. I need computer records to make a case. We may have accidentally found the chemist payments poking around the dark web."

"What else did you find?" Eric thought he could start some searches.

"Chemicals bought by a holding company called Brand-On." Genevieve rolled her eyes.

"I assume Mr. Bryant thought that was clever."

"Hetty, he's an idiot. But he's an idiot with money and quite the healthy ego. He has to be stopped. Scott and Stonebridge have a great deal of affection for Ester – especially Scott."

"Is that's why you had Agent Martinez in Santa Barbara?" Granger asked.

"Exactly. They'd try to save her – which if she needs saving, fine. But I want whatever our possible 21st Century Bonnie and Clyde have planned stopped. Leo Kamali is responsible for enough deaths. His lasting legacy shouldn't be a power mad possible son-in-law and pissed off daughter."

"When do we start?" Callen asked.

"While your boat shed and main office are quite impressive, the crib we are setting up nearby should have everything you need. I'd prefer if you coordinate everything out of there."

"Director, I think you'll find the Office of Special Projects has…"

"Hetty, I am well aware of your office's computer capabilities, the weapons in your armory and the wardrobe used for undercover assignments. What should be set up by Commander Rehme's staff by close of business in our task force location will provide your team everything they need and what isn't available can be either retrieved from your offices or purchased by mine. This is not negotiable. Director Vance has approved this."

"Has he approved anything else?" Granger asked glumly.

"Our intel will be run through your office. You should be receiving everything we have in encrypted files in the next hour. Everything will be shared. Your team is highly respected and I'm thrilled to be work with such talented operators. Captain Scott's unfortunate first impression for the Honos Project aside, the Office of Special Projects is exactly what's needed to stop Ester and Brandon before anyone gets hurt. Any questions?"

"None right now," Callen told her. "If we have any?"

"Unless I'm in a federal lock-up which I try to avoid, I'm available 24/7. I may be traveling in a day or two to Gitmo but I expect to be reachable at all times."

"Why the costume change, Cher?" Deeks asked.

"Some dope at the courthouse called CNN and told them I was dragged out of a judge's chambers in handcuffs."

"Not untrue," a deep, slightly accented voice said off camera.

"Thank you," Genevieve said to someone off camera with no sincerity. Returning to her audience she sighed. "There is a small press gaggle outside 26 Federal Plaza – my official office. I'm going in through the service entrance and then out front to explain the terrible misunderstanding. And when Justice appoints a new FISA judge, someone will put two and two together but not today."

"We look forward to working with Captains Scott, Stonebridge, Agent Martinez and any other members of your team," Hetty said.

Genevieve nodded and the screen went blank.

"So everyone here has worked with Director Fitzgerald but me," Callen looked at his team.

"Not me," Kensi said, shaking her head.

"Me neither," Eric sighed.

"I interviewed with Director Fitzgerald in the summer of 2010. I always thought it got my transfer to OSP fast-tracked," Nell said.

"Before starting the Honos Project, Director Fitzgerald was a JAG Officer in Iraq and Afghanistan. She negotiated high value target rewards. She only spoke to informants getting at least $10 million. My SEAL team was assigned to protect her. She was considered a high value target herself due to her personal wealth. We'd get her in, get her out and everyone would wind up with fancy steaks flown in from Peter Lugar, limitless phone cards, gifts to wives or parents, private school scholarship offers for kids. It was a great assignment."

All eyes turned to Deeks. "She needed an undercover operative to play a high strung, fast rising, modern artist. I was fabulous for two weeks. She saw I was a lawyer and kept me another six-weeks reviewing every piece of evidence before arresting sixteen State Department officials who were providing diplomatic paperwork for a drug cartel and for FARC. I lived in New York for a few weeks, went to Game Six of the 2009 World Series and LAPD got bulletproof vests for our police dogs. Life was good."

"Director Fitzgerald and I have crossed paths over the years. I knew her when she was an up and coming prosecutor in the US Attorney's Office," Hetty told the group. "We share an eye for talented operatives."

Granger smiled, "Classified."

Hetty nodded her head, making a mental note to check out Owen's past in New York. "OK, so now the history portion of this briefing is over, I need to know Mr. Hanna if you are going to have any problem working with Captain Scott?"

"I need to keep my family out of it."

"Mr. Hanna, your family will be safe if we can secure Brandon Bryant, Ester Kamali and stop whatever plans they have to weaponize small pox."

"Kensi can help you handle him," Deeks said with a smile.

Sam looked at Hetty. "We find these people, get the small pox and put Scott on a plane back to New York. I'm on board."

"Eric, Owen, we'll be back to the office shortly. I want printed copies of everything Director Fitzgerald's office is sending over and the address of the task force headquarters. We have work to do."

-30-


	3. 03 - Talented People

**Chapter Three** : "In most cases being a good boss means hiring talented people and then getting out of their way." ― Tina Fey, "Bossypants"

* * *

Callen and Sam walked into the decommissioned power plant near Pasadena. Nearly a dozen staffers sat with headsets, laptops or large computer screens toiling away at work stations. Sam gave a small wave to Eric and Nell, sitting in their own corner of the work stations area. Eric gave Sam two thumbs-up while Nell just smiled.

In what was a main area with a conference room table, 170-inch Samsung television screen had CNN running soundlessly while 85-inch side screens throughout the facility offered BBC News, Al Jazeera, i24News and RT all on mute. Smaller conference tables and chairs sat in three glass walled offices just alongside the work stations with dark 42-inch monitors.

"You think someone told Deeks about this place?" Sam asked as he looked around.

"Things ended OK for him here."

"Not before things almost ended for him here, period."

"Hardly looks like the same place," Callen said.

"I would hope not," a woman in her mid-thirties walked up to Callen and Sam. "Commander Rehme moved all this equipment and had his team set it up in less than eight hours." Offering her hand, she introduced herself. "Kim Martinez. DEA in theory, Honos Project in practice. You must be Agents Callen and Hanna. Your analysts were here at six saying you two were on your way."

"Callen" he said, shaking her hand.

"Hanna," Sam told her shaking her hand. "When did the Commander go to work for the Honos Project?"

"Amanda, his daughter, got into Columbia's pre-med program. One of Genevieve's greatest recruiting tools is she's rich. Stupid rich. As long as the Commander is with Project Honos, the 55-grand a year tuition at Columbia is covered."

"That's some serious bank," Sam said.

"The Commander's late wife's family had money but you're talking a quarter of a million dollars just for college and some expenses and since Amanda wants to go to med school that's another $75K a year for that. And she's going to med school so Genevieve will pay for that too."

"Good for Amanda," Sam said, happy the frightened young girl they rescued turned out just fine.

"Great for her," Kim said. "She's a terrific kid and everyone loves her. The Commander said you're the team that found her and that makes you all made men as far the folks here."

"Who are the folks here?" Callen asked.

"There are about twenty of us who are full-time with the project. About half of them are here – some computer and biological weapons experts, a linguist, there's a forensic accountant here and one back in New York, a lawyer on call if we need a warrant."

"Or to get the Director bailed out of jail," Sam joked.

"I'm so sorry I missed that yesterday. You know the Director is upset if she says "dammit" and out of her mind if she says 'shit'. All those f-bombs!" Kim just started to laugh. "She sent a package for Damien, I can't wait to see what it is."

"Speaking of Scott, where is he?" Sam looked around but couldn't pick out Damien. "Wasn't thrilled with yesterday morning but boy did my daughter have a fun time in the hotel pool last night."

"He called in and said he's running an errand. Did you hear from your office?" Kim asked.

"We were told that Agent Blye and Detective Deeks are going to Santa Barbara this morning," Callen replied.

"Yeah, with Michael getting shot, I barely landed at Santa Barbara Airport before I was chasing down the helicopter pilot to take me back."

"Excuse me Kim," a young staffer interrupted. "The Director is on the line in cubicle one. She believes the NCIS Agents would like to join the call."

"Thanks Don," Kim said. Turning to Callen and Sam, she said "Gentleman, when the boss lady wants a word it is best not to keep her waiting."

Callen and Sam followed Kim to one of the glass enclosed cubicles. "Director," Kim said as she unmuted the conference call tablet. "I have Agents Callen and Hanna with me."

"Hi everyone," Genevieve was wearing a black cashmere cardigan sweater set and black pants.

"Ma'am," Sam said with a smile.

"Your security measures made reading up on this case difficult," Callen complained. "The inability to print any documents and to have to reauthorize what was sent to tablets and phones every hour was time consuming. All the files were gone this morning. You're making this hard, Director. "

"Intentionally so, Agent Callen. Your office still has a mole. I cannot and I will not endanger a positive outcome for this case, anyone involved in this assignment and any other operatives I have in the field because an unauthorized bad actor has access to my office and my staff through your office."

"Is that why everything was moved here?" Sam asked.

"Absolutely. I've seen the set-up OSP has and it is a fine one. We could have run this operation from your offices if Leon Vance could assure me that the office was 100% secure. He could not so I would not."

"No office is 100% secure," Callen pleaded NCIS's case.

"That's true, but your office is 100% compromised. I know it, the CIA knows it, the DEA knows it, ICE, FBI, ATF, I could go on and on with the alphabet soup. It is the reason your office wasn't brought into this immediately even though I had experience with several of your agents and analysts. But with our target now being aware of Damien and Michael, as well as Michael being out of the mix, undercover operatives of your caliber are required."

"Oh for God's sake," Kim sighed, throwing up her hands.

"Kim?" Genevieve asked.

"Michael just got here."

"He's in the hospital." Genevieve shook her head.

"No, I'm looking at him," Sam said. "Scott's pushing him in a wheelchair."

"I'm going to kill them both," Kim started for the door.

"Kim, bring them in here," Genevieve directed. "Then you can kill them."

"Yes ma'am."

"Are we going to have another swearing contest?" Sam asked.

"No, that was unfortunate yesterday," Genevieve admitted. "Commander Rehme was good enough to record it and send it to the General."

"General?" Callen whispered to Sam.

"My husband is retired General Keith Jefferson." Genevieve heard Callen. "He quoted it back to me several times last night during dinner in between humming Sam Cooke's "Chain Gang" and Elvis's "Jailhouse Rock". It was the perfect cap to my day."

"Give the General my regards," Sam said.

"I will and I know he'll be happy you are working with the team," Genevieve said with a smile. The smile disappeared as Kim opened the door and Damien pushed a wheelchair bound Michael Stonebridge into the room.

"When I called the hospital last night Michael," Genevieve started, "Dr. Aronson told me you'd be released the day after tomorrow at the earliest. While you're in a different time zone, I do not believe this is Dr. Aronson's day after tomorrow. It may not even be Dr. Aronson's day after tomorrow in Australia yet. And since your work wife picked you up at the hospital and not your real wife, I'm guessing Kim heard the same thing I did."

"Ma'am, I can explain."

"Are the words 'I signed myself out against medical advice' going to be a part of your explanation?" Kim asked. "'Cause that's not an explanation, that's just damn stupid."

"Well, now that you mentioned it," Damien said.

"Oh no, work wife," Kim cut him off. "You get to stay quiet."

Damien stayed quiet.

"Director, Kim," Michael said. "I can work from a computer here while I recuperate. There are cots in the back and if I feel tired, I'll rest."

"You're out of the field until the stitches come out," Genevieve ordered. "Am I clear?"

"Yes, ma'am." Michael agreed.

"Kim, if he goes into the field, stun gun him until he can't and then hit Scott once or twice for aiding and abetting."

"Do we really want me involved in their kinky sex life?" Damien joked.

"No," Kim and Michael said in unison.

"Kim, show Agents Callen and Hanna around. Either you and Damien or our friends from NCIS need to interview our injured meth cooker to see what he knew about Brandon Bryant's business. Michael, you leave that facility to do anything but go to the hotel at the end of the day, I'll have a marshal put you on a plane back here in heartbeat. Am I clear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"I'm leaving for Guantanamo this afternoon. I will be available on the sat-phone after 1PM ET. Be safe."

"Safe travels," Kim said cutting off the feed.

"You're married?" Callen asked.

"Right now we are but I'm rethinking my options," Kim said, shooting Michael a look. "If the two of us can have the room, I'd like a moment to speak to the possible ex-Mr. Martinez."

"Oh yeah, guys, lemme get you some coffee," Damien hustled Callen and Sam out of the room.

Walking down the hall with Damien, Sam said "I would never do that to you, G. If Michelle wants me in the hospital, I'm staying in the hospital."

Callen shook his head in disbelief. "You signed yourself out against medical advice with heart damage when Michelle was with Sidorov."

"That was different."

"You guys took down Sidorov?" Damien was impressed.

"With Michelle's help," a proud Sam said.

"She was a great agent," Damien brought them to a canteen area. There was two huge coffee urn – regular and decaf – an electric kettle, sugar packets, cases of bottled water, energy bars, fresh fruit and two large refrigerators.

"She still is. Just bringing up our kids." Sam took a bottled water.

"Good for her. She deserved a happy ending." Damien pour himself a cup of coffee, Callen did the same.

"You think those two are going for the happy ending?" Callen asked, pointing to an obviously agitated Kim listening to her husband.

"Yeah, she worries about him, he worries about her, he drops that British accent on her and everything's fine."

"The file didn't say that Stonebridge remarried," Sam noted.

"Everyone knows but they never bothered to file the official paperwork. Still in Kim's desk in New York."

"Fitzgerald doesn't look like she misses much," Callen said.

"She threw them a big party at her hoity-toity place on Long Island to celebrate their trip to City Hall."

"But?"

"But I don't know, ask them. I'm just work wife," Damien sat with his coffee at one of the two small tables in the canteen.

"So tell me this, work wife, how does a dishonorably discharged Delta Forces sergeant reappear 13-years later as an army captain?" Sam asked.

"I did good work for Section 20. When she who much be obeyed wanted Mikey and me for her Honos Project, I had some demands."

"And the woman who got Tommy "Guns" Rizzo to flip on Dan "The Man" La Duca and Vasily Ivanov to sell out is brother Stan just decided to hand you the keys to the kingdom." Sam was skeptical.

"Oh, no, she got them on the taskforce as a way to keep their asses out of jail," Kim said as she wheeled her husband into the room. Michael had a box on his lap. "They work for her, this one," pointing to Damien, "doesn't go to jail for faking his death and my beloved doesn't have an adjoining cell for lying to government officials."

"Well, there's that," Damien added.

"You faked your death?" Callen was stunned.

"There were people who need to think I was dead for a while."

"And then Damien decided he needed to start a fight in a Reno casino," Michael said.

"I remember you throwing a punch or two," Damien replied.

"Genevieve was good enough to post bail and plan out the next few years of our lives while doing the paperwork," Michael told Callen and Sam.

"Still doesn't explain how you're a captain," Sam said.

"When she started the Honos Project, Genevieve was given a number of exemptions from typical law enforcement rules. As a taskforce, she could use current military but she's limited to four total on the taskforce full-time and all had to be officers."

"I think they were afraid she'd start her own army," Damien half-joked.

"So she got these two a special hearing with a military tribunal," Kim said. "Brought in the top two JAG lawyers she knew and got them both captains rank with an agreement they're never getting promoted."

"If we save the world we might." Michael said.

Wanting to get back to their reason for being at the power plant, Callen said, "Speaking of saving the world, what's on the agenda for today?"

"If you two don't mind," Kim said, "I'm going to ask you to talk to one Joseph Goodman, the badly misnamed meth cooker whose product was bought and paid for by Brandon Bryant."

"We're on it. Anything else?" Sam asked.

Kim shook her head no. "Head back here. When we hear from your people in Santa Barbara, we'll figure what we have."

"This is for you, mate." Michael passed to box in his lap to Damien. "From the boss lady."

"Probably an apology for not getting right back to me yesterday."

"If she's sending anything to anyone, I believe it should be to Agent Hanna and his wife," Kim said.

Damien opened the box. He handed a letter addressed to Kim.

"Kim, please read this aloud to the staff. Thanks, Genevieve," Kim read to the men.

Damien held framed airline ticket.

Kim continued. "Damien, since it would be a fool's errand to once again send you to a sexual harassment seminar or a refresher course on how to behave in the modern-day work environment, I'm instead offering you this challenge. You have an open-ended first-class seat booked for your return to New York after the Kamali-Bryant case is over."

"Fuck yeah," Damien cheered.

Kim continued reading. "You will, however, lose twenty dollars off that ticket every time you drop a "fuck me", "fuck you", "fuck yeah" or any other creative use you find for the f-word. If you make another inappropriate sexual remark to a member of the NCIS office, that's good for one-hundred dollars off."

"Oh I love this," Michael laughed.

"The meter starts running the minute Kim is finished reading this. Behave yourself and you can fly back first class. Another day like yesterday, you'll be lucky to be a pet crate in the cargo section of the plane. Sincerely, your boss."

"I like that woman," Sam said with a smile.

"Fuc….." Damien stopped himself. "Eff me."

"More like it. Callen and I will talk to your meth cooker." Callen and Sam made their way out of the power plant.

x-x-x

The chartered helicopter landed just before 10AM at Santa Barbara Municipal Airport. Kensi and Deeks were not the only passengers, a wealthy divorcee and her Pomeranian named Cooper shared the ride. Wealthy divorcee Claire was not happy Cooper had to remain in his cage but when the pilot promised to land the helicopter and leave Claire and Cooper in a strip mall parking lot, the remainder of the ride was quiet, if tense.

A BMW X3 was waiting in the charter company's parking lot for Kensi and Deeks's use. Cindy Greer's beach house was in not far from the Four Seasons. Kensi and Deeks were given ID's – she was internet millionaire Maddy Simmons and he was her musician husband Will – and were told to look around the area and see if what Ester and Brandon were up to after checking out Cindy Greer's old house.

Kensi was also interested in investigating pre-NCIS Deeks. When a task force member was waiting at their home after Kensi and Deeks left the office, they spent the night reviewing their covers and planning for a day in Santa Barbara. "Why didn't you tell me you were part of the Honos Project?"

"I was there for like two months. I wasn't part of the Honos project. I was on loan, like a library book."

"You could have mentioned it when you first showed up."

"Because name dropping would have made my first case as your partner go so much more smoothly. Sam was pissed I was sitting in Dom's chair, you didn't like being partnered up with LAPD, Callen mostly didn't care and I was nervous about failing."

"You thought you were going to fail?" Kensi was genuinely surprised.

"No, I thought I was being set-up to fail. Remember, I'm not Mr. Popular at LAPD. If I washed out of this because Sam was pissed or you weren't happy, I didn't expect a welcome with open arms and good cases as part of my triumphant return to LAPD."

"But you had your case with Jess."

"Jess was pushing hard with LAPD. If it brought down Emilio, who was moving a ton of product, LAPD was in. Human trafficking was more ICE, DEA and on some level CIA. Jess got that moved by the of her will. And if that worked out better, I still would have been back at NCIS because LAPD is happier with the Homeland checks for me than they are about me in general."

Kensi looked over at Deeks before turning her attention back to the road. "I still don't know why you don't join NCIS."

"You know why," Deeks looked right at her. "You know exactly why."

"Hetty is not going to do anything like the White Ghost again," Kensi said as much to reassure herself as to reassure Deeks. "She paid a big price for that."

"You paid the big price," he said sighing. "The ability to leave gives me a little leverage. Do we really want to have this conversation? Again?"

Kensi did not. "So tell me about Marty Deeks, up-and-coming modern art star."

"Not Marty Deeks," Deeks told her in a clipped tone. "I was Milo."

"Milo Deeks?"

"No, just Milo." Deeks returned to his normal speaking voice. "Milo was brilliant, needy, cocky, demanding and over the top dramatic."

"So you. Except for the brilliant part." Kensi teased.

"I'm a member of the California bar. I'm a highly trained member of the LAPD on loan to an elite team in a federal agency. Brilliant is just the start."

"So start with Milo. Why were you Milo?"

"Honos had two operatives, a DEA Agent from San Antonio named Miguel Fernandez and an ICE Agent from Miami named Felipe Torres, working as drivers and movers for an art gallery in the Meat Packing District in New York. The owners of the gallery were moving a ton of coke from Columbia in diplomatic planes with some of the works of art being brought to JFK. Some of the coke recipients were State Department officials who paid for their habit with diplomatic paperwork. Cartel members, a terrorist or two and members of FARC were all traveling this paperwork."

"Unbelievable. So how did you get involved?"

"Genevieve is jumpy sometimes. She thought Miguel and Felipe were made. Wiretaps were inconclusive but she pulls her people if she thinks there is a question about their safety."

"So what, they didn't show up one day and you did?"

"No, Honos faked a car wreck on the way to Kennedy airport. Fernandez and Torres were both reported badly injured. The gallery hired new drivers. That didn't impact the case. Honos had plenty on the gallery for the drugs. They wanted the paperwork connections.

"Makes sense."

"There was a sudden cancellation of the gallery. An artist had the IRS show up with a demand for back taxes and confiscated several pieces for the gallery." Deeks smiled. "Honos can be brutally efficient."

"Ouch."

"Yeah. Milo was looking for a space for his art and suddenly there was an opening."

"You made art?"

"No, these really ugly paintings showed up and I was booked for two weeks at the gallery. Setting up the show, I had access to several offices and got myself into their computers and files – something Miguel and Felipe couldn't get near working in the garage and loading dock areas."

"How was the show?"

"Milo bailed after he decided that everything look like sadness and returned to Los Angeles."

"But you stayed."

"Yeah. The team needed another pair of eyes for the legal end of the case. Since there were concerns about Milo running into some gallery people, I was set up a hotel room near Wall Street, car serviced to Honos's Lower Manhattan work space, ate a ton of take out or room service food, worked out in the private gym they have in the Honos office, was allowed to swim alone every night in the hour after the hotel pool was closed and then went back to my hotel room."

"That doesn't sound like fun."

"It was interesting watching the case come together. It was amazing to see how a well-financed and well-staffed team of lawyers work compared to what we had at the public defenders office." Deeks paused for a second. "With the case, the sense of accomplishment was different. What we do – the people we take into custody, we turn over to other people, JAG lawyers or federal prosecutors to make a case. Honos hears about something, builds a case from the ground up and makes it stick. That's what I was there for – they had me go through every piece of evidence, every legal document, everything and react to it as a defense attorney. Strategize what I'd do to assure my client would not be convicted."

"Probably didn't make you popular."

"No. They loved it. They wanted to know where the flaws in the cases were. They dot every 'I', they cross every 't'. Not a single defendant in this case when to trial. They were offered long sentences – Genevieve turned down all sorts of opportunities to be appointed to the bench because she said flat out her temperament is that of a hanging judge. Every defendant took their deal."

"Did she offer you a job?" Kensi wondered how close Deeks was to leaving LA in 2009.

"She asked me if I liked living in Manhattan, if I had any outstanding student loans, if I was looking for a change."

"So you said no."

"You don't say no to her. She won't offer if she doesn't think you really want it. So when I kept talking about missing surfing and missing the beach, she took the hint." As Kensi pulled onto Channel Drive, Deeks added, "She would have gotten to you, you know. She likes talented people."

"That assumes Hetty would have let me go."

"There's a battle I wouldn't mind watching. Four-foot-nine inch Hetty Lange versus five-foot-one inch Genevieve Fitzgerald for the little but fierce lightweight championship of the federal government. Let's get ready to rumble!"

Kensi chuckled. "Cindy Greer's little beach house is here." Kensi pointed to a modest beach home on the Santa Barbara/Modesto border as she pulled into the home's driveway.

"Yeah. The records show this little beach house is worth four-million-dollars. Do you we could Genevieve to give us each some cash for a house instead of donating like super cool computers to NCIS?"

"Keep playing the lottery Deeks, that's the only way we're getting a four-million-dollar beach house."

"Doesn't have to be a four-million-dollar beach house," Deeks said with a sigh as they left the car. "Just has to be on the beach."

Kensi looked around the front yard of the house while Deeks looked at the back of the house and unattached garage.

"Hey Kens," he called. "Come here."

Walking back, she asked "What's up?"

"You tell me. Notice anything about the garage?"

Kensi looked at the locked garage and shrugged her shoulders.

"Look at the tool shed," Deeks told her.

Kensi did as she was asked and again shrugged her shoulders and started walking to Deeks.

"Now look at the back door. What's different?"

Kensi walked up the two back door steps and turned around. "Security system is activated for the garage and the tool shed but not the house."

"That tool shed is about four hundred dollars at Home Depot. The house is worth four million – which one are you making sure is secure."

Kensi took out her lock picking tools while Deeks called in to Nell.

"What's going on?" Nell answered.

"How do you like your new location?" Deeks asked.

"They let you drink your coffee at your desk here," Nell said as she sat with Eric in their own area of the Honos Project's crib. "Eric may never leave."

"Play nice with the others. I need a home alarm system checked."

"Cindy Greer's place." Nell guessed.

"You got it."

"Hold on," Nell pulled up the Cindy Greer file and found what she needed. "The system is turned off except for the tool shed and garage."

"Are there security cameras?" Kensi asked as she worked on the lock.

"Yes. I'm looking at a late model BMW in the garage along with two regular bicycles. Gardening stuff in the tool shed. Lawnmower, rake, the usual."

"What about the house?" Deeks asked.

"It looks like the alarm system has to be on to get the cameras online."

"Got it!" Kensi said when the door opened.

"We're in the house, now. Can you turn on the alarm so you can access the cameras, Nell?" Deeks asked as he closed the back door behind him.

"It's cold," Kensi mentioned to Deeks. "Real cold in here."

"I don't see anything unusual in the video coming in," Nell said once the cameras were on. "I'm looking at a nice living room, neatly made beds in both bedrooms. No cameras in the bathrooms. Dining area and kitchen are clear. I can see you two so this isn't a fake feed. Kensi, you said it was cold. The house heating and cooling system is set to 60-degrees."

"That's cold. Why would you leave a like this house unsecured?" Kensi asked.

"Especially a house that expensive," Nell added.

"Maybe they're coming back – just running errands or visiting friends." Deeks said.

"Guys, I'm looking at the floor plans. There is a basement area. No cameras."

"You got a bad feeling about this?" Deeks asked Kensi.

She nodded yes.

"I do," Nell said over the phone. "The floor plans say there is a door between the kitchen and dining room that leads to the basement."

"Last time you and I were in a nice house with a basement, we nearly got 'Fifty Shades of Grey'-ed," Deeks joked.

"Deeks," Kensi said, seriously. She pointed to the basement door. A hasp and staple looked recently installed and the Kryptonite key lock looked brand new. There was also a wood bar across the door.

"That's not good." Deeks lifted the wood bar while Kensi looked in the nearby cabinets for tools. "Nell, we found the basement door, heavily secured."

"Do you need back-up?"

"Not yet. Kensi found a bolt cutter," Deeks said. "Who has a bolt cutter in the kitchen?"

Kensi showed Deeks the top of the bolt cutter. "Does that look like blood to you?" she asked.

Deeks looked at the tool. "Nell, we got blood on a tool here. We're probably going to need SBPD as soon as they can get there."

"I think you're technically in Montecito but I'll call it in to both."

"Tell them Kensi and I are here and armed. We're going into the basement." Deeks took out his weapon and blew lock off the door.

Opening the door, they heard a weak cry, "Down here, help us."

Kensi and Deeks slowly made their way into the basement.

Putting his gun down, Deeks turned on the phone's camera. "Nell you getting this?" he asked.

"Yeah, I'll get some ambulances. And Callen, Sam and anyone else I can find."

-30-

* * *

Author's notes: Sorry for the cliffhanger. Not really.


	4. 04 - Honorable Enemies

**Chapter Four** : "Give me honorable enemies rather than ambitious ones, and I'll sleep more easily by night." – George R.R. Martin, "Game of Thrones"

* * *

The private Bell 412EPI helicopter landed on the beach just across from Cindy Greer's home. Santa Barbara Police and EMS had traffic stopped on Channel Drive. Callen, Sam, Damien and Kim walked from the helicopter to Deeks as he watched the doors to an ambulance close.

"Kim Martinez," she offered her hand to Deeks, "DEA, Honos."

"Marty Deeks, LAPD liaison to NCIS." Deeks pointed to Kensi, who was speaking to an EMT near the house. She was carrying a laptop. "That's Kensi Blye, NCIS."

"What have we got?" Callen asked.

"The worst smelling basement probably from here to the Canadian border. We've got ID's on two of the three men. The third isn't cooperating," Deeks told the group. "The guy with nine-fingers is one Justin Dunn, divorce attorney reported missing by both his wife and his law partner two days ago. Seems Mr. Dunn and his firm helped David Bryant shield some of his assets from ex-wife number three. Ex-wife number three was wife number three for only six months. When she wanted more than the $100K in going away money the pre-nup promised if the marriage didn't make a year, David Bryant started hiding his money."

"Lovely," Kim said.

"According to Ken Fuller, Dunn's really chatty law partner, the firm was able to hide the money legally. David Bryant left one of the accounts active after wife number three was sent on her way. The money in this account – about six million or so according to last quarter's bank statements – was to be paid out to Brandon Bryant on his 65th birthday or if Brandon was involved in a project or a career that the trustees, Dunn or Fuller, found worthwhile."

"Huh?" Damien was confused.

Deeks dusted off his law degree. "The 65th birthday clause is something wealthy people do to their useless dependents. I'll make sure you won't be indigent when you're old and maybe sick but I'm going to make sure you work all your life and not live off my hard work."

"Smart man," Sam said.

"Same thing with the worthwhile provision. After the will is written, the useless dependent gets their act together and becomes a cancer doctor or teaches poor children in rough neighborhoods – they get the money for being a better person without waiting for their 65th birthday."

"So how does the divorce attorney wind up in the basement with nine fingers?" Callen asked.

"As trustees, Dunn or Fuller had access to the account once David Bryant died. Dunn was last seen in at a local bakery – Jeannine's - two days ago. While he wasn't completely coherent with the details, it looks like Dunn ran into Brandon on the street and was invited here. Dunn's BMW is the one in the garage. Once he was here, he was beaten by our un-ID'd subject and told to transfer the money into a numbered account in the Grand Caymans. After Dunn said no, someone – my bet is on un-ID'd guy - used the bolt cutter to remove Dunn right pinkie finger with the promise that parts more near and dear to Dunn would be gone if he didn't transfer the money."

"Jesus," Kim said, shaking her head.

"As the money was being transferred, a jogger knocked on the door – he heard someone screaming and was about to call 911. That's our second ID'd guy in the basement, David Nolan. Nolan is a high school teacher, also reported missing two days ago."

"Good Samaritan, bad luck," Kensi said as she walked up. "Kensi Blye," Kensi introduced herself to Kim.

"Kim Martinez," Kim replied. "Nothing on the other guy?"

"No," Kensi answered. "Nolan said that our unknown suspect roughed him up a little, forced him into the basement with Dunn and chained them to the support beams where we found them. Once they were chained up, a young woman – who has to be Ester – thanked the unknown subject in some foreign language Nolan thought was Arabic while the young man hit him in the back of the head with a tennis racquet. The suspect was chained to a support beam across the room from Dunn and Nolan. Ester left them with a couple of ice chests with bottled water, a box of power bars each and some mop buckets to use toilets."

"What, she was making them comfortable and feeding them. Why?" Damien shook his head in surprise.

"Does anything about Brandon and Ester make sense?" Kim answered his question with a question.

Kensi went back to the basement captives. "Our unknown suspect isn't talking. He's going to the ER to have his head wound checked and to see how dehydrated or underfed he is. SBPD has him handcuffed to the gurney."

"We need to talk to him," Callen said. "Not SBPD."

"I'll stay," Sam offered. "If they keep him overnight, I can stand guard and see if he'll talk. If Ester was speaking to him in Arabic, I can question him."

"No, I'll do it," Damien told Sam. "You go home to your family. Fitzgerald won't want us talking to the guy without video and rights read. I can spend the night here. If the guy talks, I have access to a translator in New York - Jana's former Army Intelligence."

"Are you sure?" Sam asked.

"He just wants that first class ticket," Kim teased. "He can swear all he wants without us around."

"What's going on?" Deeks asked, confused about the conversation.

"Tell you later but Scott is a walking swear jar," Sam teased.

"I'd say something but it's only going to cost me money." Looking at Kim, Damien said, "Tell her majesty where I am."

"What's with the laptop?" Callen pointed to the MacBook Air in Kensi's hand.

"Found this in master bedroom under the bed," Kensi held up the laptop. Showing the others the bright pink Speck case around the computer, Kensi guessed, "Unless Brandon is ridiculously secure in his masculinity, this is probably belongs to Ester. I was going to bring it back office but Commander Rehme had me boot it up and he downloaded the hard drive remotely. I'm still bringing it back. The Commander wants Eric to work on it."

"Detective Deeks, Agent Blye," one of the SBPD officers called to Deeks and Kensi. "You need to see this."

"I've already seen the basement, why do I have to see this?" Deeks wondered.

"How bad was it?" Callen asked.

"Dunn's finger was left in a rinsed out Starbucks ice coffee cup near the bottom of the stairs. Deeks nearly kicked it," Kensi said. "When they EMT's took the towel off his hand, it looked bad – infected."

"Bolt cutters are so hard to keep surgically sterile. Plus they whole mop bucket as bathroom set-up," Deeks added. "Stunk to high hell."

"What have we got," Sam said to the SBPD member who called them over. "Hanna," he introduced himself.

"Sergeant Marcus Hinton," the SBPD officer told the group. "We took a look at the tool shed because that's not the usual place people around here have security cameras and alarms."

"And?" Callen asked.

"After you," Hinton opened the door and where the lawn mower sat was a hatch door and it was wide open.

"That can't be good," Kim said.

"No it can't," Sam agreed.

"Mags, what have you found?" Hinton yelled into the opening.

"You need to see this," a female voice called to the others.

"I really don't need to see anything else," Deeks mumbled.

Callen climbed down a ladder attached to the wall of the opening. Kim, Kensi, Deeks, Hinton and Sam followed. They found themselves in a room that was 25 feet by 25 feet with a seven foot ceiling. There were several 55-gallon drums in the room along with an industrial refrigerator, a mini-fridge with a microwave on top, a complete lab set-up, a bed and a full bathroom.

"Maggie Lopez," the woman in the room introduced herself. "I can't understand the labels on the drums."

"We have people who can," Kim started taking pictures the labels on drums.

"If you look at the back leg of the bed, there is a long chain there with some sort of leg iron," Lopez pointed to the bed.

Picking up the leg irons without touching the inside of the cuff, Kensi started pulling the chain around the room. "Whoever was kept here could sleep, use the bathroom, eat, work here at the lab table and go back to bed." Pulling the chain toward the ladder, Kensi said, "They could never get up the stairs, though. Whoever was down here, they weren't here voluntarily."

"Ester's father had a hacker and his friends kidnapped in Russia. While the hacker was held in a Russian jail, the friends were held hostage until the hacker was able to break into the staff ID system at Ramstein," Kim said. "Killed the hacker, one of the hostages too."

Deeks opened in the mini-fridge. "Red Bulls, ramen noodles, jar of peanut butter, some Ritz crackers. This looks like my law school fridge."

"Can you have someone swab the inside of the cuff?" Kensi asked Lopez. "Send the results to me at NCIS."

"Sure," Lopez nodded her head. "We're sort of out of this, aren't we? SBPD, I mean."

"I'll keep you in the loop as best I can," Deeks told his fellow local law enforcement officials. "But this is a federal case with national security implications."

"Fine with me," Hinton said. "I can't even imagine who to talk to about where a civilian gets leg irons that look like props from 'Game of Thrones'."

"I'm more interested in who built this place," Sam looked around the room. After opening the bathroom door, Sam said, "This isn't the work of amateurs. That's a working toilet, sink and shower."

"Panic rooms were all the rage around the time Cindy Greer bought this house," Hinton told the group. "But the good panic rooms are inside the house, off bedrooms or bathrooms. This is something else."

"Nothing good," Deeks said, more to himself.

"We need to see if any scientists, like chemists or chemical engineers, are missing." Callen told the others.

After climbing out of the underground room, Callen called Eric with a to do list of missing scientists and local construction companies.

x-x-x

The police presence on Channel Drive, along with a news helicopter and some lookielous from the beach, made any hope of Kensi and Deeks covertly asking around about Ester and Brandon impossible. Instead, the team, minus Damien, returned to Los Angeles.

"I got the shit beaten out of me here," Deeks said as he and Kensi walked into the decommissioned power plant.

"Are you going to be OK with this?" Kensi said, worry creeping into her voice.

"Oh yeah, I'm fine," Deeks said and it felt like the truth - a truth that surprised him. He walked out of this place with two fractured ribs, a sore gut and as a member of a real team for the first time in his professional life. "But if the next super-secret office location is Sidorov's auto repair shop, I'm going to start to take this personally." Deeks heard Sam chuckle. Deeks was slightly amazed he could be joking about being tortured and Sam would be entertained by it.

Nell walked up to the four OSP staffers with a bottle of Snapple lemonade and a straw.

"You two are really enjoying the new place," Kensi noted.

"Eric is on his sixth Oats and Honey Kind Bar," Nell said, laughing as she walked the team to her desk. "He is very happy here."

"Do we have anything on the third guy in the basement?" Callen asked as they got to Eric's work station. Kensi gave Eric the pink laptop.

"No prints," Eric said, pulling the fingerprint scans up on his computer screen. "Literally no prints. Burned off and the ER doctor said they were gone likely for years."

"Great." Sam sighed.

"Scott got a DNA cheek swab after a bit of a struggle according to the ER doctor who was more than just a little unnerved by today's events."

"If he didn't want to give up the cheek swab," Michael said as he rolled over to the team. "Chances are he's in somebody's system, fingerprints or not. Leo Kamali had several known associates who were like uncles to Ester. They were bad men, all of them, but they were incredibly loyal and protective when it came to Ester. If the man with Damien is literally keeping his mouth shut, there has to be some connection to Leo or Ester."

"We'll check that out," Nell sat at her computer and added the new search parameters.

Eric continued his update. "Justin Dunn is in surgery. They're trying to clean up the infections around the wound but the amputation itself was fairly clean. Whoever did it knew what they were doing."

"Probably our third man." Kim joined the conversation. "Do you have anything else?"

Eric pulled up some hospital records. "David Nolan is being kept overnight for observation. Honos plans on following him for the next days. An FBI team is being dispatched from San Francisco."

"He's either the unluckiest guy on the planet or something's hinkey." Deeks said.

"Honos had someone look at the chemical drums. Two have components used in making gasses for aerosol cans. The others can be used as a chemical preservative."

"Neither of those sound good if Brandon and Ester are planning an attack," Kensi said.

"Gets worse," Nell pulled up an FDA report. "The preservative is not an especially sophisticated one. Whatever it is supposed to preserve is only going to last for a week or two. Then it will break down."

"Could that damage the weaponized small pox?" Sam asked. "Maybe render it ineffective," he hoped aloud.

"It is more likely to damage any canisters holding the small pox if they're not properly lined," Eric dashed Sam's hopes. "If it leaks, whatever Brandon and Ester have planned could start a whole lot sooner."

There was a loud beep from Nell's laptop. "I have a match for our unknown subject."

"What do you have?" Callen said.

Nell pulled up a college yearbook photo and a photo Deeks took at the beach house. "Kamir Nassib. He was at Harvard the same time Leo Kamali was there. Nassib was pre-med, Kamali was a business major."

"Anything else in common?" Sam stared at Nell's screen. "Clubs, fraternities, causes?"

"No. Nassib went to Stanford Medical School while Kamali stayed at Harvard for his MBA. Nassib wound up working for the same NGO where Ester's mother worked. He left the organization just before Leo Kamali died," Nell said.

"The NGO probably has a DNA profile on Nassib if he was working in dangerous parts of the world," Kim said.

"As a doctor could he know something about the small pox?" Deeks asked.

Nell shook her head. "Never practiced medicine. Got his medical degree and an MBA. He was a medical administrator. He'd travel with the doctors and make sure they had everything they needed to work in places like Afghanistan, Beirut, the Sudan."

"So he would know supply houses that could ship what would be needed to weaponize small pox and to make a vaccine," Michael said.

"And being an administrator dealing with companies and countries in war zones…"

Eric finished Nell's thought, "Nassib would know exactly what companies would be sketchy enough to ship chemicals to a beach house in California, no questions asked."

x-x-x

Damien Scott walked into the power plant just after 6PM. "Where's Michael?" he asked Kim as he walked to the canteen.

Kim tossed him a bottle of cold water as he took a Kind bar. "I drove him back to the hotel about two-hours ago. I'm sure he's desperately awaiting your call."

"What's going on?" Callen said as he joined the conversation.

"The little, big boss sent in a member of the Marshal Service to the hospital. Marshal Jackson looks like he could throw a jeep through a big wall. One of the biggest humans I've ever seen."

"You're going to need to be more specific about the 'little big boss'," Deeks said as he walked into the canteen. "You've seen Hetty in-person."

"I'd heard about this Hetty Lange person over the years," Kim said. "My boss at the DEA called her an urban legend. A month after I joined Honos he was replaced by her godson. Nobody ever mentioned her again. The legend is real."

"FBI made that mistake too," Kensi chuckled as she took a Big Kat Kit Kat bar. "These are excellent."

"I'm trying to keep my figure," Damien joked. "Fitzgerald also sent over an ex-Marine who runs military housing for Vandenberg. He speaks six languages. Chances are he can question Nassib in whatever language Nassib wants."

"Well, now that we're all here, Commander Rehme is doing a debrief at 6:30," Kim told the group.

"Well, here's my report to the Commander. Nassib said nothing, wouldn't even answer the doctor's questions. He had to be restrained when I wanted the DNA swab."

"What about the other two?" Sam finally joined the group.

"The nine-fingered lawyer is expected it be physically fine for someone who started his week with ten-fingers. He woke from surgery screaming, scaring the hell out of everyone in the surgical ward."

"He's a civilian. He thought the worst he'd have to deal with is an angry spouse, unhappy with the property settlement," Deeks said. "There's no law school class for what he's been through."

"There's no class for that period," Kensi added.

"What about Nolan?" Callen asked.

Scott shrugged his shoulders. "Our good Samaritan? Seems fine. Barely a scratch on the dude."

"So are we suspicious?" Kim asked. "I'm suspicious."

Sam nodded. "I think we all are. Have to be."

"It would explain the food, water and bathroom set-up. It would also explain why the air conditioner was going full blast. Upstairs was cold but the basement was comfortable," Kensi noted.

"Wasn't that comfortable. Stunk to high hell," Deeks grumbled.

"He's a neat freak," Kensi explained.

"Not wanting to wallow in putrid aroma of cut off fingers and mop bucket bathrooms does not make me a neat freak," Deeks replied.

"Guys." Nell came into the canteen. "We're looking for you. Commander Rehme is on the big screen."

Eric was right behind her. "It is so cool."

Walking to the main area, Commander Rehme took up the left quarter of the screen. He was sitting in what looked to be a home office.

"Good to see you all," the Commander said with great affection. "I told Director Fitzgerald NCIS should be the first agency she deals with in Los Angeles."

"How is Amanda?" Sam asked.

"Terrific. She loves the East Coast. We had one big snow storm last year and on a Saturday. I don't think the young kids on our block had as much fun as she did."

"Good to hear."

"First, an update on your facility," Rehme began.

Nell grimaced. "Oh yeah, we should have mentioned this when you guys got back."

"What's wrong with our offices?" Callen asked.

"When the Director spoke with your office yesterday you may remember there was no video on our end. I was walling off some malware in your telecommunications system that was trying to breach our servers."

"We have malware?" Sam was stunned.

"Very sophisticated malware. My people were able to contain it inside your system and remove it, leaving our own malware that ultimately ends any attempt the outside code makes to rebuild itself."

"What did you find?" Callen asked.

"I gave a long report to Ms. Lange and Mr. Granger…"

"She prefers 'Miss'," Deeks said absently.

"…the malware codes looked to be Russian when we first examined them."

"Looked to be?" Eric asked.

"Yes, looked to be. When the malware tried to regenerate itself, my people were able to follow the process. It was North Korean malware that translated itself into Russian code. A very clever program, truth be told."

"Any idea how long it was in the system?" Kensi asked.

"Based on the code regeneration, I'd say summer or fall of 2014. Ms. Lange and Mr. Granger were given a full update in the SCIF in Port Hueneme. Obviously, I wasn't having this conversation with them over any of OSP's telephone or computer systems."

"Of course," Sam said.

"I promised Ms. Lange to do a complete diagnostic breakdown of your computer and phone systems once this assignment is finished."

"About that," Eric started.

"If you are the Eric Beale Ms. Lange spoke about, I've been told that all video games are to be removed with extreme prejudice. You may want to get over to your office and clean out your system but for God's sake, do not take anything from there – a thumb drive or a disc – and bring it to the crib."

"Of course not sir," Eric smiled, grateful for the reprieve. "About today, sir?"

"Starting with the laptop, it is 29-months old. According to our profiler, there is an online journaling program Ester Kamali posted to regularly. It tracks the disillusionment of Ester over that time. Morgan, the profiler, will be sending you his findings but Brandon Bryant found an adoring ear in Ester Kamali, turning her against her guardians and her friends. It seems only Brandon and Ester understood his unrecognized genius."

"Based on his grades, four colleges missed on that genius too," Damien added.

"Captains Scott and Stonebridge show up from time to time. Damien, you and Michael go from being men who had to kill her father before he could kill hundreds to men who murdered her tragically misunderstood old man."

"Yeah, that's exactly what happened," Damien shook his head disgusted.

"Photos go from selfies with her guardians and her friends to surreptitious photos of Brandon and then some photos with Brandon no father would ever want to see. After that, there was some e-mail correspondence as well in the computer. Most troubling is an email exchange with a business in Culver City, Periodical Printing."

"LAPD tried to close them down for years. They provided falsified documents – fake IDs, drivers licenses, passports. We closed them down after the Oliver Johnson case a few years ago."

"They reopened with allegedly new ownership that looks like an LLC formed by Clint Mason."

"He's doing four years for supplying Johnson with fake ID's," Sam said.

"Got out in 2015. Good behavior and overcrowding. He's not involved in Periodical Printing everyday anymore, his son-in-law David Griffin is."

"And the son-in-law probably made fake IDs for Ester and Brandon," Kim said.

"Director Fitzgerald would like you to bring both men in for questioning tomorrow. Your boat shed facility is now considered secure. She prefers the crib be kept criminal free."

"Is she still in Guantanamo?" Kim asked.

"There is a prisoner there who has been helpful in the past with certain terror financing issues. He's Russian and you know she makes the Russians nervous."

"She makes everyone nervous," Damien said.

"There is a tropical storm in the Caribbean that is making her nervous so she's looking to get out soon. She may have some questions for you to ask Mason and Griffin to ask." Rehme looked at his watch. "My day started at zero-four hundred so I'm calling it a night. I recommend you all do the same. NCIS, you are more than welcome to stay near the power plant. We have three floors of rooms in the Westin Pasadena."

"Deeks and I can stay – if something happens overnight, we'll be right here."

"You just want a staycation," Sam teased.

"We didn't get to see Santa Barbara, why not enjoy Pasadena?" Deeks replied.

"You can figure out your sleeping arrangements, I'm looking forward to mine," the Commander told the group. "I'll be in the office at zero-five hundred Eastern Time but if you need something, call."

"Yes sir, good night." Sam said just before the Commander disappeared.

"If they have forged passports, they could be anywhere," Kensi said.

"I'll start a facial recognition search for Ester and Brandon in airports in the US and start moving out from there. It can run overnight and hopefully be done tomorrow when we get in," Nell told the group.

"Run a search of the Beirut airports. Also Park Tower Suites," Damien told Nell. "It is the best hotel in Beirut. Brandon doesn't seem to be a Motel 6 kind of guy."

"You may want to add known associates of both Leo and Dina Kamali. If Nassib was someone who worked for the same organization as Ester's mother, there may be other people from her parents' pasts looking to help. And the people Leo knew were all trouble" Kim added.

"Back here at six tomorrow," Callen said.

"I'll tell Michael ten," Damien looked at Kim. "Pace him."

"We're going to have a little talk tonight," Kim said. Turning to Kensi and Deeks, she asked, "Two rooms?"

"One is fine," Kensi said.

"Oh," Kim seems a little surprised, Damien more impressed.

"We'll take a room, too," Nell said.

"Nell and I share a room at ComicCons and RenFaires all the time," Eric added a bit too quickly.

"What the fu….hell is a RenFaire?" Damien asked.

"You don't want to know," Callen said with a sigh.

"There is a whole world out there you know nothing about, Scott," Kim teased.

"And I like it that way."

x-x-x

Walking into their junior suite, Kensi looked around and smiled. "A lot better than some of the places you've probably stayed in the past."

"Not a bad room," Deeks replied as he walked into the bathroom. He returned with the complimentary bottles of water the concierge at the front desk promised.

"Are you going to tell me what's bothering you?" she asked as she made herself comfortable on the king-sized bed.

"What are you talking about?"

"For a man who wears Artie for days on end and who sleeps in filthy alleyways on one hundred degree days, you were really bothered by the smell of that basement."

"It stunk."

"No, the durian you cut open in the office stunk. It was foul today but it wasn't that bad."

"No, it was awful."

"You saw yourself in Justin Dunn," Kensi told him.

"What?" Deeks leaned on the desk across from the bed. "What are you talking about?"

"Dunn wasn't prepared for what happened to him…"

"No one's prepared for what happened to him."

"Agreed, baby," Kensi told him. "Completely agree. And nobody would have been prepared for what happened to you and Sam. Then we're in a secret place where someone was tied to bed. You were strapped down to a chair in Sidorov's garage."

"Yeah, well," Deeks knew Kensi was on to something.

"And then we walked into another place where you were beaten."

"No, I'm actually good with the power plant. Callen showed up, I got to go home after I was pretty sure I wasn't going home."

"Deeks," Kensi said, tilting her head.

"I probably saw more of myself in Justin Dunn than I expected. But the room still stunk. The power plant, Kens, that was different. I started feeling better when I got there. I didn't see the place where I took a beating, I saw the place where Callen walked in and I knew I wasn't going to die. I saw the window where you shot the bodyguard." Deeks joined her on the bed. "Nothing but good memories about that place."

"You can tell me if you're having problems with the case. I've always got your back."

"That was never in doubt." Deeks leaned in and gave her a long kiss. "Driving over, I was thinking about finding some decent food. Now I'm thinking maybe a shower and some room service. You need to see just how nice that bathroom is. Big shower, couple of body spray jets, a nice handset – all good."

Kensi kissed him. "Everything's all good when I'm with you." Standing up, Kensi pulled off her shirt and tossed it at his head. "See you in the shower."

-30-


	5. 05 - Depends on the Day

**Chapter Five:** "We are all ordinary. We are all boring. We are all spectacular. We are all shy. We are all bold. We are all heroes. We are all helpless. It just depends on the day." - Brad Meltzer

* * *

Kensi thought she'd have the gym to herself when she walked in at 5AM. She was surprised to see Kim Martinez with a good sweat going on a treadmill.

"How's Michael?" Kensi asked as she stepped on her own treadmill.

"Fine until about 3:30 this morning when he needed to go the bathroom. Bathroom runs become so much more of a production when you've got almost every pillow in the room plus two couch cushions under your injured leg. Michael should be in the hospital but his mind doesn't work that way. None of their minds work that way."

"Is he alright?"

"Oh yeah. He didn't want to use the wheelchair to get to the bathroom and decided to hop across the room. Hit the coffee table. That's when I got involved because God forbid he lean on his wife until it's a real mess," Kim said, exasperated.

Kensi nodded in agreement as she started the treadmill. "God forbid."

"And then once he was up and back from the bathroom, we had to rebuild the tower of pillows for his leg. It was nearly four when he fell asleep but I was wide awake. Figured I'd get a run in since I was up anyway."

"I thought the gym opened at five or did you pick the lock?" Kensi asked as she started to increase the treadmill's incline.

"Whenever Honos takes over a hotel, we take over a hotel. Our operations manager Nikki always negotiates 24-hour gym access, 24-hour pool access if there is a pool and 24-hour room service. We don't keep regular hours. There's also our own security. Every room we may use is swept for bugs, digital recorders or parabolic mics by a couple of security experts who travel with the team. One of them was leaving the gym when I walked in."

"You guys are really buttoned up."

"The team has a handful of rules. Everyone going home alive is rule number one. Always has been. Money spent on team security is money well spent. And with the problems in your office, we can't be too careful."

"I trust everyone on this team with my life," Kensi said defensively.

"Knowing who I work with, the people from your office who are in the crib are so clean they squeak and as good or better at their jobs than the people we have here. We don't do interagency drama. I'm DEA and a former Marine. Scott is Army. Genevieve, Rehme and Michael are Navy. Our security experts are out of the Marshal's office. Our operations manager is like you guys, NCIS. Well, most of you guys. You're working with LAPD on your team. Any territory issues there?"

"LAPD usually defers to us. Deeks has less to do with that than you think."

"But he's good at his job, right?"

"The best."

"That's why we're all part of this taskforce. Everyone plays nice, save the world, go home and do it again tomorrow."

"Sounds like a plan. I like it." Kensi got the treadmill up to a good speed. "How long have you and Michael been married?"

"It will be a year in November. It's been a good year."

"Nice to see someone in a happy relationship doing what we're doing."

"You seem real comfortable with Marty. That's rare in what we do too. Michael and I don't partner up much but you and Marty are partners in all things."

"It's Deeks. Outside of his mother, who calls him Martin, he's Deeks to everyone."

"Deeks it is," Kim noted.

"And partners in all things. I like that."

"How does NCIS like that? Or is it not a problem because he's LAPD."

"NCIS doesn't have an official stand on it. Neither does LAPD but with Deeks being in our office all the time, I don't think anyone there knows. Everyone on the team at NCIS knows we're together. I mean, we live together. They probably thought we were together long before we actually were. Nobody cares but we thought they would."

"Same here. Well, Damien gets jealous he's not the center of Michael's life every now and again." Kim laughed. "So as long as it doesn't hurt the work and none of us want it to hurt the work - we're good."

"I know that feeling. I love everyone involved in our team. We're family but sometimes…"

"You want your business to be your business." Kim nodded her head.

"Something like that."

"I know. That's why Michael and I had the world's simplest wedding. Picked up the marriage license on a Friday, got married before work the following Monday."

"How'd you plan that?"

"No planning. Michael and I went down to City Clerk's office and got it done. Not really a fancy gown and flowers sort of girl."

"Not even a bouquet for the ceremony?"

"Blue dress for me, grey suit for Michael and we were fine," Kim said with a laugh. "Damien was probably the most pissed off because he wanted a bachelor's party. I reminded him their time pretending Damien was dead was probably one long bachelor party."

Kensi laughed.

"My folks were a little annoyed but hey, they were three-thousand miles away." Kim said shrugging her shoulders.

"Three-thousand miles away? Are you from around here?"

"Long Beach. I'll be honest, it is weird being out here and not seeing Mom and Papi. Maybe Michael and I will surprise them if we're not called back to New York right after this is over."

"Are you're close to your parents?" Kensi asked.

"As close as you can be when you spend a decade with the Marines, getting a job with the DEA and a college education before being stationed in Columbia for a few years. Add in nearly two years in Section 20 with stops in Beirut, Budapest, Russia, Berlin, Bangkok, North and South Korea before living in New York with Honos. It's sad to say but when I get time off, the last thing I want to do get on a plane and go somewhere. Since my folks don't like to travel much, it's phone calls and Facetime."

"It is hard keeping up with family and friends in this business. Especially if you don't live in the same city." Kensi thought about the years she didn't see her mother even though her mother lived less than 20-miles away.

"I always try to call when things are quiet. Three-years ago I had a real brush with death. Called Papi to say goodbye without actually saying goodbye. I just needed to hear someone who loved me, you know?"

Kensi nodded, remember the call she made to Deeks once from a Malibu bathroom.

"But things turned out OK. And they turned out OK when we went out to visit last year around the holidays. Fortunately, they liked Michael as much as he liked them. Michael didn't have much of a family growing up. Now he has my Mom feeding him real Mexican food and a fellow soccer fan with Papi. When it works, family is great."

"Yes it is."

"So the surprise son-in-law of Gabe and Maria Martinez was a member of the Royal Navy and six years younger than me."

"Oh, cradle robber!" Kensi teased.

"I prefer cougar," Kim said proudly. "What about you and Deeks? Is he the reason you're up so early?"

"As a matter of fact, he is. No bathroom trips, though. Well, one at five to two but no, he got up at four and drove to our place to see Monty…."

"Dog?" Kim guessed.

"Yes. And by now Deeks is swimming laps at the 24-hour gym he joined only because they had an Olympic-sized pool."

"Oh, he's a swimmer. The guys in high school who were swimmers looked fine."

"Surfer and he still looks fine," Kensi said with a little pride. "Unfortunately for him, there was no way he could see Monty, surf and get back to the power plant by 6AM so quality time at Round-The-Clock Fitness will do."

"The hotel has a pool," Kim said as she started to slow the pace on the treadmill.

"Yeah, he took a look at that last night before checking in. Mr. Mermaid wanted more. He also wanted to see Monty. We always leave enough food and water plus there's a college student a block away who'll take care of Monty if we're not available but…"

"A man who misses his dog is a good man. I like that about him."

Kensi smiled. "I do too. Don't tell him that," Kensi smiled. "Do you have a dog?"

"No, we've got Damien."

Kensi laughed, as did Kim.

"How long have you and surfer-boy been together?"

"A while," Kensi said. "Not without some ups and down but we've been good for a while. A real long while."

"Anything good is worth fighting for. Michael and I didn't start off all that great but since he's been with Honos, every day has been pretty damn good. As long as he and Damien don't figure out another way to get themselves killed, I plan to be a happily married woman for the rest of my life. Not a lot a Brits running around where I grew up. But it's just right, you know?"

"I do know."

"I never saw myself with someone like him and now I can't ever see myself without him. Funny how that happens."

"You're a wise woman, Kim Martinez."

"With a damn stupid husband. If you see him make a move to get into the field, do me a favor…"

"If I can."

"You're the one on the team with the sniper background, right? Don't shoot anything important. Keep him pretty and keep him upright but keep him in the damn crib. Aim near his feet."

Kensi started to laugh.

"I need to take a shower and arrange for my beloved's breakfast before I go. Your guy like tea?" Kim turned off the treadmill.

"Coffee. And weird juices every now and again."

"Yeah, well, this SoCal girl has had a crash course in making proper tea including heating pots and using the correct type of kettle. Of all the things a young Kim Martinez ever thought she'd own as an adult, tea cozies, plural, are the biggest surprise on the list. Michael travels with a tin of his own tea when we're on cases so I have to make sure room service sends up a proper pot."

"My operations manager would probably love to have a cup with him," Kensi said. "Hey, when this is all over, maybe we can grab a bite. You, me, Mr. Tea and Surfer Boy."

"We catch the bad guy, we find the priciest place you can. My boss will take care of it."

x-x-x

Deeks walked up to the entrance of the power plant. Damien was leaning against the wall near the entrance, smoking a cigarette and drinking a cup of coffee.

"Can I ask you something?" Damien took a long drag on his cigarette.

"Sure," Deeks was amused. For 5:45AM, Damien seemed quite serious.

"This is just between you and me."

"I have an impressive security clearance. I'm good with secrets."

"What the fuc….hell is a ret frat?"

Deeks started laughing. "RenFaire, it's RenFaire."

"I saw those two from your office this morning and still can't figure out what the hell a…"

"RenFaire."

"What is a RenFaire?"

"Why, you want in?"

"I just want to know what the hell people are talking about. I've lived outside of the States for too fuc….damn long."

"You're really trying on the swearing thing, aren't you?"

"Six-hours on a plane is a long time to spend in the middle seat."

"So true," Deeks smiled. "A RenFaire is a Renaissance Fair. It's an outdoor festival where people dress up in clothes from the Renaissance era. People perform like they would back then – puppet shows, jousting, singing and playing the lute. Folks eat food like mutton and drink wine and mead."

"No shit?"

"No shit."

After taking a sip of his coffee, Damien said, "More shit I know nothing about. I went with my kid to ComicCon in San Diego…."

"You got a kid? And you went to ComicCon?"

"I have a son named Finn. He's 18 and a good kid. Lived with his mother for a long time. Lives with me now. He starts Fordham in the fall. I've been trying to make up for lost time. That includes ComicCon. Walked around ComicCon wondering what the hell was going on. Figured RenFaire…"

"Yay, you got it right!"

Damien gave Deeks a look. "I didn't want to have to ask Finn about a RenFaire if he announced he wanted to go. God, he spent the whole ComicCon weekend telling me who everyone was. I got like Batman, Captain America and all that shit. But _Walking Dead, Doctor Who,_ I know nothing about that. And I think I probably should if he's into it. He spent two weekends looking for Pokemons and I had no idea what the hell he was doing."

"There are a lot worse things an 18-year old can be doing besides looking for Pokemon and hanging out with his old man at ComicCon."

"That's true. I was doing a lot worse shit when I was his age than he'd ever dream about doing."

"Does he know what you do?" Deeks asked.

"Oh yeah. Finn got involved accidentally a few years ago. We were supposed to have some time together and instead I got him shot and I almost got him fucking killed. And I don't give a shit how much that costs me from the Empress of Etiquette."

"Your secret is safe with me on that one. Is he OK?"

"Yeah, bounced back no problem. He does have some of my genes."

"Is he on a swear count too?"

"No. He's a good kid. Smart too. He deserves a good life," Damien took a sip of his coffee. "Speaking of the good life, you're with the brunette."

"She might hurt you if you refer to her that way," Deeks replied, shaking his head. "Skip might."

"She's good with a tee-shirt."

"She's better with a rifle. And a knife. And tactical batons…I could go on."

Turning serious, Damien looked right at Deeks. "Don't let her out of your sight. Make everything you do together count. You think you have time. You're wrong," Damien took the last drag on his cigarette, then dropping it into the make-shift ash tray - an old cement planter filled with sand. "Gotta love America. We're here fighting for freedom and the American way and every time I want a cigarette I have to go walk to the smoking detention area with the other addicts."

"Damien, Dam…Hi Deeks," Nell said, out of breath as she ran to find someone. "Charlotte Danforth from New York is on the big screen. She said she needs to talk to you."

Deeks and Damien followed Nell into the power plant. On the big screen was a woman in her mid-twenties. Wearing a navy blue Ralph Lauren wrap dress, a single strand of pearls and matching earrings, the only item out of place was a capped green Sharpie in her mouth.

"What's up Charlotte?" Damien said as he walked toward the screen. "I'm here with LAPD's Marty Deeks."

Placing the Sharpie on her desk, Charlotte replied, "Good morning Damien, hello Detective Deeks. I started looking into Karim Nassib's background. Using the logarithm I designed to back trace passport photographs, I discovered Mr. Nassib entered the U.S. through Newark Airport using the passport of a Kamal Saad of London in January of 2016. The true Kamal Saad died of leukemia in a British hospital in April of 1973."

"Do we know how long Nassib traveled as Saad?" Deeks asked.

"To the best of our knowledge, this was the only use of the Passport. Kamal Saad flew Lufthansa. His ticket was purchased by a company named Ten Eighteen. Researching connections to either Brandon Bryant or Ester Kamali, I confirmed that Leo Kamali was killed…."

"On October 18th."

"Correct Damien."

"Were you able to find out anything on Ten Eighteen?" Callen asked as he and Sam joined the group. Kensi and Kim were steps behind. Callen pointed to himself, "Callen," before turning to the others, "Sam, Kensi and you know Kim."

"I am well-acquainted with Kim. And of course I investigated Ten Eighteen. Incorporated in December of 2015 in Nevada, the two officers in the corporation are Bryant Brandt and Essie K. Harris. The company's corporate address is a mail box in a UPS Store in Henderson, Nevada. There is a corporate bank account with close to $50,000 and two corporate credit cards issued to Bryant Brandt and Essie K. Harris. Harris was the maiden name of Ester's mother."

"Any recent activity?" Sam asked.

"That's why I asked Nell to bring you here. Bryant Brandt currently has a bungalow reserved at the Beverly Hills Hotel, Essie K. Harris has two rooms booked at the Saharan Motel. Several years ago I stayed at the Beverly Hills Hotel. It is lovely. I am unaware of Saharan Motel, however. The Yelp reviews are not kind."

"A step down or two from the Beverly Hills Hotel," Deeks told her. "Where did you find her?" he whispered to Damien.

"She's Genevieve's Mini Me without the time spent in the Navy."

"I prefer protégé to Mini Me, Damien," Charlotte said calmly.

"Especially since Genevieve is a mini herself," he replied. "How long are they booked in those hotels?"

"That's the reason for my urgency. Everyone checks out this morning."

"Does Genevieve know?" Kim asked.

"Commander Rehme spoke to her just before she left Guantanamo this morning. Her C-130 is on its way to the States. Tropical Storm Earl is bearing down on Jamaica so she left with all non-essential personnel. The Director wants everyone taken into custody as soon as possible and for it to be done safely. The office needs survivors to find out what Bryant's and Kamili's plans are. AUSA Carmichael just sent a packet of whatever you may need in the way of warrants."

"Did she spend any time in a holding cell?" Deeks joked.

"After the unfortunate incident with the Director earlier this week, the FISA Court's cooperation with our office is at an all-time high. AUSA Carmichael has spoken with the Beverly Hills Hotel – you will have their complete cooperation. While she does not believe the Saharan Motel will tip off whoever is in the rooms booked by Essie K. Harris, she believes a surprise raid may be your best option. And, as always, Director Fitzgerald wants everyone to exercise caution."

"You'd miss me if anything happened, wouldn't you Charlotte?" Damien said as the call started to end.

"Any loss to the team would be unacceptable Captain Scott so yes, you'd be missed. Presently, however, I miss Captain Stonebridge more," Charlotte said with a smile before cutting off the call.

"Ain't that the truth," Kim said, winking at Damien.

"How do we do this?" Kensi asked.

"I want to get Ester," Damien said.

"Is that a good idea?" Kim asked.

He nodded his head. "She'll listen to me."

"Because she's made such great decisions lately," Sam added.

"No, she'll listen. She got Leo to understand that sharing the cure for the small pox virus in Berlin was the right thing to do. I don't care what this Brandon asshole did to her, she was a good kid."

"Was may be the key word," Kensi warned.

"I'm going for Ester," Damien told the group. "You can figure out what the rest of you want to do."

"We'll take the probably paid help staying at the Saharan," Sam said. "Kensi, Deeks, you go with Scott."

"I'll go with you two," Kim said to Sam. Turning to Kensi, Kim whispered, "Keep an eye on Damien."

Kensi nodded.

"NCIS's tactical team will be at the Beverly Hills Hilton. Agent Rand is arranging for the FBI's tactical team to be at the Saharan." Nell read from her tablet. "All information about the rooms and the hotels have been sent to your phones. Commander Rehme will coordinate the raids with the FBI's Dan Taylor from New York. Be safe."

x-x-x

Damien, Kensi and Deeks along with five tactical team members surrounded the Grand Deluxe Bungalow at the Beverly Hills Hotel. Once Agent Taylor gave the 'go' command, Kensi opened in the front door with a key card provided by the front desk. Kensi, followed by Deeks, Damien and Wes from the tactical team entered quietly. She saw the other members of the team stationing themselves outside the windows.

After clearing the living room, Kensi and Deeks made their way to the bedroom while Damien and Wesley walked to the bathroom. With the bedroom door half-opened, Deeks pushed his way in with Kensi just behind him. Alone in the bed was Brandon Bryant, sleeping in an Ed Hardy Los Angeles tee-shirt and a white Hurley board shorts.

"You want to wake up Sleeping Beauty or should I?" Damien asked as he walked in the room from a connecting bathroom door.

"Please," Kensi said, wanting to see this. "Feel free."

Screwing the cap off the bottle of Voss water on the bedside table, Damien dumped it on Brandon's head.

"What the fuck?" Brandon yelled as he woke up.

Kensi, Deeks and Damien all had their Colt M4's pointed at Brandon. "I'd really give serious consideration to your next move," Deeks warned.

Damien pulled the bedding away from Brandon. "Hands on your fuc…head. Hands on your head."

Deeks tossed his handcuffs to Damien, who was happy to place them on Brandon with extreme gusto. "Where's Ester?" Damien asked.

"Lawyer," was Brandon's answer.

Dragging Brandon out of the bed by his soaking wet hair, Damien asked again. "Where's Ester?"

Brandon said nothing.

"Get this piece of shit out of here. We need to find Ester," Damien pushed Brandon to Wes.

"I got a runner," one of the tactical team members yelled. "Female suspect, bathing suit cover-up, flip-flops, beach bag, running from the pool."

"Run Ester" Brandon yelled. "Run!"

"Shut him up," Damien said as he ran from the bungalow. Kensi and Deeks were right behind Damien, Wes staying with Brandon.

"Damien, this is a hotel full of civilians," Kensi said.

"I just want one civilian," Damien told her. "Ester!"

The three chased Ester past the pool and into the garden area. Jumping through the bushes, they raced to catch Ester as she made her way to a side driveway. As Damien, Kensi and Deeks got to the driveway, they saw a taxi pull away.

"I can't see the license plate." Kensi said. "Eric, can you track that cab?" she asked using her ear piece.

"Trying," Eric replied.

"Guys," Nell said. "Callen and Sam's team found two empty rooms."

"Lost the cab, Kensi," Eric said.

"Fuck me," Damien muttered.

-30-


	6. 06 - You Have The Law

**Chapter Six:** "Justice? - You get justice in the next world. In this one you have the law." – William Gaddis, "A Frolic of His Own"

* * *

Callen and Sam walked into the boatshed with Kim. At the main table, Kensi, Deeks and Damien were all eating lunch. A mix of sandwiches and wraps along with several bottled waters were sitting on the counter near the refrigerator. Brandon Bryant was on the TV screen as he sat in in the interrogation room alone.

"What have we got?" Callen asked.

"I got a roast beef with muenster, she's eating chicken and he's eating bunny food," Damien answered.

"I resent bunny food. And it's Kensi and Deeks, not he and she," Deeks said.

"I think Callen was talking about Bryant," Sam replied.

"I was, but I'll take a sandwich," Callen agreed. Tossing a wrap to Sam, Callen asked again, "What do we have?"

"New York is sending someone to interrogate Bryant," Damien said between bites.

"We can talk to him," Sam said, pulling a bottle of water from the fridge. Returning the favor, Sam tossed a second bottle to Callen.

Taking a sandwich and pouring herself a cup of coffee, Kim said, "Honos is full of lawyers. Genevieve is not going to mess up whatever case the government is going to have against this useless, spoiled brat because he's got an expensive lawyer."

"We can get him an attorney and ask questions with the lawyer present without violating his rights," Sam said. "It's what we do."

"He already asked for a lawyer," Deeks noted. "And he may not talk at all."

"So we get him a lawyer and find out. And whatever New York does or doesn't have for a legal case means nothing if the small pox virus is released and starts killing people," Sam added.

The door off the interrogation room opened with Nell walking. "I have company," she said as she joined the group. A large man carrying a Dunhill Boston Small Holdbag helped push Michael in his wheelchair to the main room. Michael had a Tumi garment bag a draped over the arm rests of the wheelchair.

"Hey Mikey," Damien said. "The big guy means her worship may be gracing us with her presence."

"I am Deputy U.S. Marshal Eli Ben-Aharon," Eli introduced himself in his slightly-accented English. "Also she prefers Director Fitzgerald over 'her worship' Captain. The Director should be here soon." He took the garment bag from Michael. Kensi pointed to the open door alongside the sink giving Eli a place to hang the garment bag and hook the Dunhill bag on the doorknob.

Kim took a sandwich and a bottle of water. Handing it to Michael, she said, "You should be at the crib."

"Bored. Besides, the boss lady mentioned I could help."

"Where is the Director? Isn't she in…" Sam started to ask but was drowned out by the sound of a low flying helicopter.

Eli calmly pointed to the sky.

Not a minute after the helicopter left the parking lot, the boatshed door opened. Genevieve Fitzgerald marched wearing her Navy work uniform and carrying a Nike gym bag.

"Whoa!" Deeks said as he saw her. "That is…."

"Not a word, Detective," Genevieve warned as she pulled her hair out of a ponytail. Eli took the Nike bag. "Good afternoon all and thank you for waiting."

"OK, but I've never seen you in anything that didn't scream cocktails at 21," Deeks said.

"Untrue Detective – I took you to a Yankee game during your time with Honos. Look, I was told at zero-three-twenty this morning that I had 15-minutes to grab my gear and get out of Gitmo. Hurricane type weather to Key West. Flying into Coronado and then a Huey here. It's been a long day already and I need..."

"It's just that uniform…" Deeks could not help himself.

"Is small. Like me," Genevieve shook her head and rolled her eyes. "That's why it fits."

"Deeks," Callen whispered, making a slashing motion with his hand across his throat.

"I'm sorry, it's just…"

"It's just you didn't know the American Doll Store made uniforms, Detective?" Genevieve said with a sigh, arms folded. "That Doc Martins made boots for toddlers? That female officer's uniforms come in large, medium, small and fun-sized?"

"That's funny," Kensi snorted.

"Always happy to entertain," Genevieve replied. Pointing to the door where the garment bag hung, she said, "I'm going to change. Restroom?"

"Down that hall, ma'am," Sam replied.

"Thank you," she said, pulling the garment bag off the door and taking the Dunhill bag to the restroom.

"It's small in there," Deeks warned.

"I'll fit right in," Genevieve answered before slamming the bathroom door.

Kensi looked at Deeks. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

"There is always one," Eli said quietly. "More recently it has been Captain Scott but someone always has jokes about the Director's size."

"And she has more jokes back," Sam said.

"Well it isn't like you wake up one day and you're suddenly smaller than most of the people around you," Nell told the group. "Sooner or later you hear everything."

"It was the uniform," Deeks explained. "I saw her every day for a month and she was always in a business suit or a dress and five inch heels. And at the Yankees game she was still better dressed than most people in the stadium. That look just surprised me."

"Surprises the hell out of me half the time," Genevieve said as she rejoined the group, wearing a sleeveless Karl Lagerfeld black dress, pearls and pair of Valentino black pumps. She was also carrying an iPad. "So the minute our young man asked for a lawyer, all questioning was stopped, correct?"

"Yes ma'am," Sam said.

"Good." Looking at the group, Genevieve said, "Eli, Agent Hanna, Det. Deeks, I'd like the three of you to join me in the interrogation room while I speak to Mr. Bryant."

Kensi frown was not missed by either Deeks or Genevieve.

"That's going to be a little tight," Deeks noted.

"That's the plan, Detective."

"Oh, this is going to be fun," Kim said. "Do we have popcorn here?"

Just before entering the room, Kensi saw the three men all lean down, taking instructions from Genevieve. Sam walked in first, with Brandon yelling "Finally!" Genevieve was next followed by Eli and Deeks, who was working his phone. Sam walked around the interrogation table and stood just to Brandon's right. Genevieve took the chair on the good side of the table with Eli standing immediately to her right. Deeks handed Genevieve his phone while taking her iPad before sitting at the desk near the door.

"Good afternoon Mr. Bryant. My name is Genevieve Fitzgerald, Deputy U.S. Attorney for the Department of Homeland Security's Domestic Terrorism Division. I've been told you've requested an attorney. Before you say a word, I'm going to read you your rights, clarify your situation and then ask you again if you are interested in speaking to an attorney." Using Deeks's phone, Genevieve read Brandon his rights. "Do you understand these rights as I have read them to you?" she asked as she finished reciting the Miranda Rights. "Now for your answer Mr. Bryant, I just want a yes or no, nothing else. Do you understand your rights?"

"Yes," he said sullenly. Sam's towering presence clearly made him uncomfortable.

"Det. Deeks, did I read Mr. Bryant his right correctly?" she asked.

"Yes Director. Word-for-word," he replied, returning her iPad and taking his phone. The Justice Department's Miranda warning card was on the screen of the iPad, just as LAPD's was on Deeks's phone.

"Before he was a police officer, Det. Deeks was an attorney. Always good to have an attorney around and I've been told you want one. One will be provided to you as soon as I explain your current situation, what charges you are facing and how my office plans on seeking at least life in prison with no parole and quite possibly the death penalty."

"Nobody gets the death penalty here in California," Brandon said dismissively.

"Not true and I'd like to finish what you need to know before I hear from you again."

"Because you're in charge," he sneered.

Genevieve leaned back in the chair, folding her hands on her lap. "Yes I am, Mr. Bryant. From this moment on, every minute of your day, every day, will be a reflection of what I chose to do to you. And using a term someone like you might understand, spoiler alert: I am not a nice woman."

"And the two big dudes and the wash out lawyer," Brandon pointed to Sam, Eli and Deeks, "they're here to scare me."

"No, they are here for my personal security and to help provide me with information. And again, I'd like to finish what I have to say because when I finish speaking, outside of your many upcoming court dates, nobody is much going to care about you."

Leaning forward, Genevieve started swiping her iPad screen. "Currently, I have you on three charges of kidnapping – all federal crimes. One of your victims suffered a head wound while the other was mutilated with significant blood loss. If either of those men die of their wounds, you as one of the kidnappers found guilty of the federal charge of kidnapping and now murder, would face a federal death penalty so the state of California and its relative indifference to its convicts on death row is immaterial to me. DNA of a fourth, unknown victim was found on the chains in a hidden room-slash-laboratory off a house you inherited. If the owner of that DNA shows up dead, you will face the death penalty in a federal court."

Brandon started to speak but Genevieve held up her hand. "I'd think twice before interrupting Director Fitzgerald," Sam said.

"Thank you Agent Hanna. Then there is the matter of your Brand On! holding company. A raid of the meth lab you bought and paid for resulted in the shooting of a Department of Homeland Security-Justice Department joint counter-terrorism task force member. If that agent dies, you will also face the death penalty and of course a laundry list of drug charges."

Watching on the big screen in the main room of the boat shed, Kim shook her head. "She's making me a widow. I did not see that coming."

"Mikey, she's killing ya off," Damien teased.

"I'm going to rally," Michael joined in on the fun. "She's going to regret writing me off so quickly."

Back in the interrogation room, Genevieve pushed her iPad to the center of the table. "And then there's this. In the fall of 2013, Leo Kamali, your late father-in-law, had an agent of his terrorist group release the weaponized small pox on a train travelling Brussels to Berlin." The iPad photos showed Hazmat teams removing people from a train car in a rural area outside of Berlin. "This is what happened to the men and women exposed." Genevieve swiped photo after photo of men and women covered with small pox lesions. "This young woman, Eva Mertens, was about 19 when she was infected. Ester is about 19, isn't she? Don't answer, I know exactly how old she is."

Genevieve kept swiping to show Brandon the photos. "Ten hours after being exposed, Ms. Mertens was covered head to toe. Eventually, there were lesions in her nose and mouth, leaving open sores. Ms. Mertens died less than 48-hours after exposure. The Berlin hospital where she was being treated had to put Ms. Mertens and all of the victims into medically induced comas near the ends of their lives because they were in such agony."

Pulling the iPad back and turning it off, Genevieve continued. "And now you and your child bride want to bring that here. You're fooling around with a biological weapon that could kill millions. If one person dies here from something you and your wife think you're masterminding, I'll make damn sure you never know anything but supermax confinement before I make damn sure you are strapped down on a gurney and given a lethal injection."

Brandon started to speak again but Eli raised his hand. "I insist you let Director Fitzgerald finish."

"Thank you Eli. Now let me explain your current situation. Right now, you have a chance to make things better for yourself. Your basement accomplice, the guy working for you and who is good with the bolt cutters – Nassib - I've cut a deal with him."

"She has?" Damien asked.

"She's lying," Nell replied. "She can do that."

Genevieve continued. "Mr. Nassib is quite the talker and he is with my top deputy spilling everything he knows."

"Pussy," Brandon mumbled.

"And for that, he won't face the death penalty. Now he's accepted a plea where he'll be sentenced to life with a chance for parole after twenty-five years. That's what, 2041 before he can hope to be free? And he won't be but hey, he can try. As for you, you tell my people what I want to know, I'll offer you the same deal. Life in prison with opportunity for parole after 25-years. You don't cooperate, when I leave this room the next time I see you will be in a court hearing explaining why I'm asking for death penalty considerations."

"I'm not afraid of you."

"Oh buddy, she's the scariest person on the planet," Deeks chucked.

"I'll take that as a compliment, Detective. Now you want an attorney, I'll get you one. It will be a public defender as all your bank accounts have all be frozen. California is a community property state and since there are concerns your fugitive wife plans to unleash a biological weapon on the innocent civilians, you are currently penniless. Perhaps your father's good will in the community may have had an attorney or two offer their services pro bono but I think what happened to Justin Dunn would certainly cause me to rethink any involvement with a client like you."

Leaning back and watching Brandon fidget, Genevieve finished her pitch. "So you'll wind up with a public defender, a position Det. Deeks had prior to joining the LAPD. Detective, what was your work load before leaving the L.A. County Public Defenders Office?"

"The final year was over 400 misdemeanor cases, close to 300 felonies."

Sam whistled, "You were busy."

Deeks nodded his head. "Yes I was."

"Welcome to the world of being one of the 300, Brandon," Genevieve said with a smile. "Your lawyer will get to you just after he gets some abusive spouse off on time served and cuts a deal for some kid on the nine-year college plan dealing weed to a local high school student who was really Jump Street. Meanwhile, I'll have the full force of the United States government on my side, providing expert witnesses on contagious diseases, forensic accountants who track terrorist funding and a legal team that has lost exactly zero domestic terror cases since it was formed in 2002. Welcome to the wonderful world of being in indigent defendant, Mr. Bryant."

"Where maybe you get fifteen minutes of my time on a random Tuesday once a month just to make sure I'm not going to miss a hearing or a court date," Deeks added.

"So now is your moment of truth," Genevieve stood with her hands on the table, leaning toward Brandon. "You can tell my task force everything you know about what is going on with Ester, the names and current whereabouts of Leo Kamali's former terrorist organization members who are working with you and what other drug labs you have running. You tell my people that, I will take the death penalty off the table. You don't help – and by help I mean name every single name, disclose all plans and give a full accounting of your criminal activity and if you miss one, deal's off – I will be the one in the red dress in the front row the morning of your execution."

"And now you know how we got recruited to Honos," Damien said watching his boss on the screen.

"Yeah, I'd make sure I'm not on the business end of that," Callen agreed.

"You gotta promise me nothing is going to happen to Ester," Brandon said.

"When Ester is found, every attempt will be made to bring her into custody without incident. But if she makes a move on members of my team, just as with your meth lab geniuses, it will end badly for her." Genevieve grimaced. "Are you revoking your request for legal counsel?"

"Yeah, for now."

"Agent Hanna, Det. Deeks, please make sure Mr. Bryant is fed some lunch and given some water. I believe he has a busy afternoon ahead of him," Genevieve said as she took her iPad and walked out of the room. Eli, Deeks and Sam quickly followed.

Kim started applauding. "Always the best show in town."

"Thank you," Genevieve said absently. "Detective, did you have any problem with the end of that interview?"

"When he asked about Ester, no. He wasn't giving information, just asking for some assurances before revoking his attorney request."

Looking at Nell, Genevieve asked, "Can you e-mail me that entire interview?"

"Of course," Nell said as she walked to a trunk behind the couch and pulled out a laptop.

"And then I'd like to have you and Michael interview Mr. Bryant."

"Me?" Nell was surprised.

"Have Eric Beale link that laptop to the crib. You'll have complete access to our files. Michael knows everything about what Kamali did overseas, Nell will have access to all of our files and a much better grasp of the Los Angeles landscape. We should get some very useful intel. Kim, I'm going to need you to feed me the highlights in real time."

"Where are you going?" Damien asked.

"Do that same dog and pony show with Karim Nassib. Agent Hanna, Agent Callen, Det. Deeks and Damien, if there is actionable intel from Brandon…"

"We'll be the action," Sam said.

"Excellent. Agent Blye, feel like a ride to Terminal Island? Mr. Nassib is currently housed in the FCI there and between you, me and Eli, we likely cover all languages spoken by Mr. Nassib."

Kensi smiled. "Yes ma'am."

x-x-x

Kensi and Genevieve got into the back of the Chevy Surburban while Eli took the wheel. "There is an In-N-Out Burger on the way to the 405."

"You are a prince among men, Eli," Genevieve sighed. "Feed me."

As they pulled into the drive-thru, Genevieve ordered a hamburger, fries, diet Coke and "all the napkins you can give me and remain environmentally sound." She also got a strawberry shake for Eli and a chocolate one for Kensi.

"Sorry to be plowing through my meal but I got a bottle of water and a power bar on both of my flights out here. If I stopped for a sandwich at your place, I would have inhaled everything you had."

"Little woman, big appetite," Eli noted.

"More short jokes, this is my lucky day."

"I'd like to apologize for Deeks. He was kidding..." Kensi started to explain.

"Of course he was. When he was on loan to Honos, he spent most of his lawyer time making jokes about my shoes. I had a feeling when I walked in, he'd unleash his inner smart ass." Picking through her fries, Genevieve asked, "Was there any particular reason you were unhappy Det. Deeks was part of the interrogation?"

"Oh no," Kensi said quickly. "He's an excellent detective, smart in the interrogation room and you used him as a lawyer. Deeks was perfect for the job."

"I've done variations of that in the past. Brandon Bryant thinks he's an alpha male and he needed to be reminded what real alpha males look like, act like and know. Add in a tiny alpha female who is giving him orders and he was toast the minute Sam Hanna stood next to him." After taking a sip of her soda, Genevieve had another question. "So if Det. Deeks was perfect for the job, was there any reason you seemed unhappy he was chosen?"

"I'm sorry, I don't understand…"

"Agent Blye, you looked unhappy when I chose Det. Deeks for the interview. You seemed surprised he worked with Honos before becoming your agency's liaison officer. Are you concerned I'm here to poach Det. Deeks? Because I tried that a few years ago and failed spectacularly."

"No, of course not. I was… it was…"

"Agent Blye?"

"Kensi, please. I was…" Kensi was looking for the right words. "I was surprised that so many members of our team either worked or interviewed to work with you in the past."

"You were heavily recruited by other agencies, Kensi. You know the drill. Agencies and teams are always looking for the best and the brightest. That would cover everyone at Honos and at OSP."

"Of course, it's just…"

"Were you looking for an interview? Are you looking for one?"

"Oh no. I'm really happy with my position with OSP."

"Good to hear. And for the record, I did call Hetty a while back about you. I needed someone for a short term undercover detail and I thought you'd be perfect. You were on an assignment and unavailable. Wound up with an ATF Agent from Seattle. She's was a peach."

"Oh, yes," Kensi said as she felt a sudden sting of disappointment. "I was in Afghanistan for about four months in late 2013, early 2014."

"I needed you in May of 2012. You were undercover looking for a Russian spy in some zippy cul-de-sac around here. I'm terrible at LA locations. And you found him, according to Hetty who updated me a week later to tell me you were available. At that point I had Peachy Alison from ATF set up inside the UN as a translator."

"Oh."

"Agent Blye, you have an excellent reputation inside Homeland and at the Justice Department."

"That's good to hear."

"You are a true asset and OSP is fortunate to have you. Besides, in recent months I've been rethinking how I run my unit."

"I don't understand."

"I've been able to attract the best and the brightest from all over the country. My personal financial situation allows me to offer inducements above and beyond what the typical federal agency can."

"That's great."

"It works, or it did work, for a long time. Your Det. Deeks – and based on what I saw for the hotel usage yesterday, he is your Det. Deeks – was a surprise 'no' when I started inquiring about his interest in joining Honos."

"Deeks likes living in L.A."

"Which I respected but didn't understand. I'm enough of a hands-on manager that I want my people close. In the past, I recruited great people who liked the idea of living in New York. Commander Rehme is the perfect example. At the time his name was mentioned to me, I was looking for a strong second-in-charge and I can always use computer geniuses. Add in that he's damn smart with a brilliant daughter who got into Columbia, one of my alma maters. It wasn't a hard sell."

"For a lot of people, New York isn't a hard sell."

"But it is for people who have found a sense of home someplace else. The team recently added a full-time profiler. We used the FBI's BSU for years but I always wanted one exclusively for the team. Our new to the staff profiler works from his home just outside of Bethesda. He's a great addition."

"That kind of work can be done in a home office."

"True, but my New York team is here in Los Angeles. A month ago, they were in San Antonio. Six months ago, Damien and Michael were working on a ranch in Idaho. That was high comedy while tracking down a domestic terrorist interested in ricin. I'm beginning to realize I send my team from New York all over the country. I can send them from Chicago or Dallas just as easily. Hell, I can send them from L.A."

"Oh," Kensi said, unsure what was coming next.

"Just something to ponder, I suppose," Genevieve said. With a broad smile, she added, "I would never want to anger Hetty by making a pitch for a career move without running it by her first. Because, you know, that would be wrong."

Eli laughed – a deep and hearty laugh. "Yes it would. We are about five minutes out, Director."

x-x-x

After ten minutes of getting visitors passes, Kensi, Eli and Genevieve were asked to wait in the Warden's office. When Warden James Koppel walked into his office, he wore a panicked look.

"This happened about 40-minutes ago," Warden Koppel said pointing with his television remote to the video screen on his office wall.

Video of Karim Nassib in his prison cell wearing just his underwear. His holding his prison issued pants in his right hand, he walked over to the isolation/shower area of his cell. In less than a minute, he hung himself.

"Where were the guards?" Kensi asked.

"They were there 47-seconds after he walked into the shower area." The video on the screen confirmed what the Warden was saying. Cutting him down and starting CPR, the guards tried to save Nassib. "He tied a knot in his pants. Our doctor thinks he knew…"

"He was trained as a medical doctor. He'd have an idea how to cause the most amount of damage in the least amount of time," Genevieve noted.

"There was a note. We're looking for someone who can translate it."

"Marshal Ben-Aharon may be able to help," Genevieve offered.

"May I see the note?" Eli asked.

Warden Koppel put a hand-written note on the screen. "We have several inmate trustees who have helped us translate in the past if the Marshal can't…"

Eli interrupted. "It is my honor to protect the daughter of Dina and Leo Kamali. No price is too high when it comes to Ester's safety and to her mission. I will be reunited in the afterlife with Dina, my dearest friend. I will be greeted as Ester's protector and the man who carried on Leo Kamali's legacy."

"Dammit," Genevieve said. "Kensi, call this in to the team. I need to talk to Washington."

-30-


	7. 07 - Dance in the Wreckage

**Chapter Seven** : "I think I'll dismember the world and then I'll dance in the wreckage." ― Neil Gaiman, "The Sandman, Vol. 1: Preludes and Nocturnes"

* * *

"So tell me Brandon Bryant spilled like a glass of merlot on a white rug and we not only have Ester and their accomplices in custody but the weaponized small pox is also in our control," a rather exhausted Genevieve said as she walked into the boatshed, just behind Eli and just ahead of Kensi.

"I'd like to but it wouldn't be true," Callen said. He was alone in the main room. Nell and Michael were still interviewing Brandon.

"Where is everyone?" Kensi asked.

"Sam left to check his family out of the hotel," Callen started.

"Oh, they could have stayed their all week," Genevieve said with a wave of the hand as she sat down. "Least I can do."

"Sam and his family spent a lot of the last year in a safe house. I think they're happy to be home," Callen explained. "Deeks and Scott went to an address Brandon gave them. It was a house they were using to run this."

That caught Genevieve's attention. "Do we have video of him giving Damien and-or Deeks permission to enter the house?"

"Deeks grabbed Kim's laptop, typed something up, printed and it and had Brandon sign it," Callen said.

"Signed consent to enter a building is always helpful in court," she replied.

"You and Deeks aren't the only lawyers involved in this."

"Did he request a lawyer?" Genevieve pointed to the screen.

"No, Brandon gave us the name of another shell company created that rented homes, bought supplies and provided plane tickets for several men. The corporation is DHK."

"Dina Harris Kamali, Ester's mother."

"They have to have a lawyer on the payroll," Kensi said. "Did Deeks and Damien find anything? Where's the house?"

"It was a mansion in Beverly Hills. Hetty recognized the address, some old-time Hollywood landmark home."

"Probably Brandon's idea," Genevieve said.

"Brandon and Ester stayed in the main house with several visitors from London. Brandon didn't know much about them, just that they knew Ester's father and he wasn't thrilled they were hanging around. He was looking for some honeymoon time with his new wife. They were working with Nassib and talking to Ester and only Ester."

"Not good," Genevieve sighed. "Did he give a number to several?"

"Four. They're the guys from the Saharan Motel. Seems Brandon didn't trust them alone in the house, especially with Nassib no longer in the picture. He wanted them kept in line. Remind them who was running things, who was Ester's husband."

"Names?"

"Leonardo, Donatello, Raphael and Michelangelo," Callen said. "He didn't have last names."

"They don't have them," Eli said. "They're the Teenage Ninja Mutant Turtles." Looking at a slightly stunned Callen he added, "I have a child. She was a fan."

"Yeah, Nell reacted badly to the names but continued with the interview."

"Did Damien and Deeks find anything in the house?" Kensi asked again.

"They found several laptops in the main house."

"Main house?" Eli asked.

"There was a guest house in the back. Nassib was staying alone in the guest house in the back. He had an old computer – a Mac iBook that was key lime green according to Nell. Deeks remembered the model from law school. Scott thought that was an odd choice for a doctor-administrator type. They scooped up all the laptops in the houses and brought them to Eric. They should be back pretty soon."

Stifling a yawn, Genevieve asked "Where's Kim?"

"All of the plane tickets came from the same travel agent near the jewelry district. Kim left to pay him a visit."

"Anything else?"

"Brandon whines a lot. He thought they could take Kamali's small pox virus, change the formula a little, create a vaccine and start holding up countries for ransom. He planned on opening the bids for the U.S. Government at $100 million. And the U.S. was getting a discount – the Russians and the Chinese were going to pony up at least a quarter of a billion each according to the plan. Same with Japan and the EU. He hadn't firmed up his plans for Australia, India and the rest of the world."

"This gets worse by the second," Genevieve said. "He's an idiot with delusions of grandeur."

"Oh it gets a lot worse. That was Brandon's plan. He's all about the money. Ester is the dreamer of the two. Her plan was to give the poor countries in the virus and the vaccine and let them sell the vaccine the wealthier countries while keeping the virus."

"Yep, a lot worse," Kensi said.

"Ester believed the now not so poor countries could train and finance scientists to keep tinkering the virus so every few years a new vaccine would be needed. More of an infusion of cash from the wealthy countries could finance schools, hospitals, arts programs," Callen told them. "She believes that in a few years, all the money from the U.S., Russia, China, Japan and the EU will fix every poor country's problems and then they'd stop working on the virus."

"Or they'll start using it on their own people or other countries. She is thinking like a child," Eli said. "Some of these men who run countries – both the poor ones and the wealthy ones – do not think like children. They think like dictators."

"Why was Nassib in the basement?" Genevieve asked. "He was loyal enough to Ester to commit suicide to protect her but they left him in the basement. I'd be reconsidering my role in an organization if I was knocked out and left to die."

"Brandon thought he was losing control of Ester. Nassib kept speaking to Ester in Arabic or French, which made Brandon uncomfortable. He also felt the other men were more loyal to Nassib. And then more loyal to Ester than to him."

"Of course they're loyal to Ester, not to her idiot American husband," Kensi said.

"And he is an idiot," Callen said. "You missed his two crying jags and his very specific demands for lunch."

"Please tell me we fed him," Genevieve said.

"We got him the Pure Salad from Café Gratitude as he demanded with a kale, cucumber, lemon and celery pressed juice," Callen shook he head as he passed Genevieve the receipt for lunch. "I had Sam bring it in to him. That was the reason for the second crying jag. He realized this was his last non-institutional meal."

"You'll be reimbursed tomorrow," Genevieve said looking at the bill. "Geez, could he eat more kale? And I'm guessing Chief Hanna's general presence was more upsetting to Mr. Bryant than the quality of prison food he'll be enjoying for the next few decades."

The door to the boatshed opened. "Can I get some help here?" Kim called to the team.

Callen, Kensi and Eli ran to the door with Genevieve pulling up the rear. Eli took an angry, handcuffed man out of the back of Kim's SUV.

Callen opened the door to the second interrogation room as Eli easily marched his charge into the boatshed. "Don't uncuff him," Kim held up her arms. "He scratches."

Callen, Kim and Kensi left the interrogation room leaving Eli standing like a statue by the door.

"Who is he?" Kensi asked as they walked into the boat shed's main room. Opening the trunk near the chair, Kensi pulled out a first aid kit and passed it to Kim.

"Don't know. Nobody was at the travel agent's office. I copied the computer hard drive," Kim fished a thumb drive out of her pocket and pushed it into her laptop sitting on the main room's table. "I started back to the building's underground parking lot. This son of a bitch jumped me as I tried to get into the Jeep."

"You OK?" Genevieve asked as Kim took some Neosporin and started using it on her arms.

"Yeah. Dude has a glass jaw. Leaned him against the car door before he hit the pavement, put him in the back and came back here."

"Were you followed?" Callen asked.

"No, checked around but I was alone in the parking lot. Someone else would have come after me once this guy went down," Kim said, pointing to now the split screen on the monitor.

"Can we get him printed and see who he is?" Genevieve said.

"Probably need a cheek swab too," Kensi added. "Nassib destroyed his fingertips."

"I'll start with the prints," Kim said. "In the ride over, every time he opened his mouth he'd make Damien blush. Let's try to keep his mouth shut."

Walking into the interrogation room, Kim had Eli put his hands on the man's shoulders while she leaned down to the man's cuffed hands. Using her cell phone, she took the man's fingerprints.

As Kim returned to the room, the boatshed front door opened again - in walked Hetty Lange.

"Hetty!" Genevieve said as she crossed the room. After sharing a hug and an air kiss on each cheek, Genevieve seemed genuinely happy to see Hetty.

"Always wonderful to see you, Director Fitzgerald. You have assembled quite the team here."

"As have you, Hetty. As have you."

"Yes, I saw you took Miss Blye with you to Terminal Island."

"The late Karim Nassib pretended not to speak English when he was in custody. Between myself, Eli and Kensi, I thought we'd be able to eliminate his language choices. Obviously, he never had any plans on talking."

"He may be the only one," Hetty said more to herself.

"Hetty?" Callen asked.

"Nothing. Who is our new guest?" Hetty asked.

Looking at her phone, Kim said "James Rogers. He's the travel agent. He's also in all sorts of financial trouble. Maxed out credit cards with withdrawals at Hollywood Park, Normandie and a bunch of casinos in Vegas."

"Probably not the only people he owes," Callen said. "Credit card companies cut him off, local bookies wouldn't mind being paid in plane tickets."

"I've got something," Eric's face filled the monitor screen.

"What do you have Mr. Beale?"

"Deeks and Damien brought in six laptops. One was Brandon Bryant's and it was full of video games and half written screenplays. Four other computers were personal laptops from the men Deeks said were working with Bryant. Lots of porn, lots of action movies. Those guys like their Jason Statham films."

"Mr. Beale," Hetty chided.

"But this," Eric held up Nassib's old iBook, "was the motherload. Director Fitzgerald, I contacted Ferran Joly from your office."

"Ferret?" Damien said as he walked in with Deeks

"Damien," Genevieve warned, "not now. Ferran is a computer whiz and fluent in almost every language."

"The inside of the computer was rebuilt several times. There are ten years' worth of accounting, medical and word processing programs on the hard drive. They all go to a file called al-Zuhari. The file is nearly a terabyte and all in Arabic."

"What was Ferran able to translate?"

"All of it. There are all the financials for the attacks in Berlin and Ramstein. The bribes paid to keep al-Zuhari's death quiet are recorded."

"How up to date is it?" Deeks asked.

"Last Sunday. Since coming to the U.S., he's updated everything – every receipt scanned, every account updated. As of half-an-hour ago, every account has been frozen. There are currently seven credit cards active in the Los Angeles area. Brandon has one, Ester has another, Karim Nassib as Kamal Saad had a third. I'm sending you the names of four men. I found passport photos that match these names. They're fake passports."

"Of course," Callen said.

"They all flew to the U.S. from London last spring. Facial rec identified one as Wilmer Nava. He's a Spanish national, raised in London when his father's international law firm transferred him when Nava was six."

"Let me guess, attended Harvard," Genevieve said.

"Harvard law. He's an attorney."

"And he was there when Leo Kamali was there," Hetty said.

"Even was recruited by the same CIA officer who got Kamali. Nava washed out after six months," Eric told the group.

"The CIA has the worst taste in men," Genevieve grumbled.

"We're looking into the others but so far, nothing."

"Nava is probably running things. Or running things while he lets Ester think she's running things," Damien said.

"Is there anything else?" Genevieve asked.

"One real estate transaction caught my eye. Brandon and Ester were living in places like Malibu, Santa Barbara and Beverly Hills," Eric began.

"Lifestyles of the rich and famous," Damien said.

"Nassib purchased – as Kamal Saad – an auto body shop off South San Pedro and 21st Street in the spring. Has had an "Opening Soon" sign on the door since."

"I'm bad when it comes to LA locations," Genevieve said. "Where is this place?"

"Not an area we'd find Brandon Bryant," Deeks explained. "Ever."

"OK."

"He then paid half-a-million dollars, cash, for the home next door. The house was valued at half that."

"Stating the obvious, we need to get into that house and into the body shop," Genevieve said.

"Where is Mr. Hanna?" Kensi asked.

"Right here Hetty," Sam said as he walked into the main room. "I heard about the house and the body shop."

"Same plan as this morning," Damien said. "Simultaneous raids."

"Guys," Eric looked up. "Just go this off a traffic cam. This was about 1PM this afternoon."

A black SUV pulled up in front of the Nassib's overpriced house. Eric magnified the video showing four men exited the Jeep along with a woman wearing a baseball cap, black tee-shirt, black leggings and Uggs.

"Ester," Damien said.

"Damien, she's part of this," Genevieve said sympathetically. "I know you feel sorry for her but she's planning on either releasing or selling the small pox. If Nava is an anarchist, my money is on releasing it here in LA."

"We can get a tactical team ready in an hour," Hetty said.

"I'll call the Marshal's office, get someone for Brandon and find him someplace semi-cushy for tonight. Keep him talking tomorrow. Detective Deeks, can you get LAPD to pick up Rogers?"

"Sure. Charges?" Deeks asked, unsure who the man in the second interrogation room was.

"Assaulting a federal agent is a start. He attacked Kim," Genevieve told him.

"You OK?" Damien asked.

Kim chuckled. "A lot better than he's going to be."

"Are you OK for the raid?" Genevieve asked.

"Try to stop me," Kim said.

"I have access to a helicopter," Genevieve said to Hetty. "Want to watch this from our crib?"

"I would. Always interested to see how the other half lives," Hetty said with a smile. Addressing the rest of the team Hetty said, "I don't need to remind anyone here that while the body shop is a commercial piece of property, that is very much a residential neighborhood. If the small pox was to get out…"

"Hetty, we know what has to be done," Sam said solemnly.

"Damien, do you?" Genevieve asked.

"Yes, of course," he said.

"Fine, Agents Hanna and Callen take the house with your tactical team. Damien, Kim, Agent Blye and Detective Deeks – you take the body shop. The helo will bring out our hazmat team."

"But…" Damien began.

Genevieve shook her head. "Damien, securing the small pox is your assignment."

"I think I can…" Damien started to plead his case.

"Talk to Ester? Yeah, you can. When she's in custody." Genevieve's tone was firm but not unkind. "I trust Agents Hanna and Callen to get that done. Am I clear?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Everybody, don't get killed," Genevieve said. "Let's finish this."

x-x-x

Hetty walked into the power plant. "This is an impressive set-up," she said as she looked around.

"We need room to operate," Genevieve said. "Honos has purchased old factories, unused warehouses and decommissioned municipal properties like this in a number of high risk cities. We've got a smaller, mobile unit for smaller operations but this is the crib."

"I like that term," Hetty said as the two made their way to the conference area with the big television screens.

"Kim brought it to us from Section 20. It works. We have cots, a hospital set up, everyone has back-up clothes. Hell, this dress and my shoes were stored here and I have a change of clothes for tomorrow too."

"Your set-up and your team is the envy of the counterterrorism community."

"And I'd be happier putting mob bosses in jail and not worrying about a world where there are hourly threats of plane hijackings, terror attacks and misguided idiots with access to small pox," Genevieve said with a sigh. "And your team's reputation in the counterterrorism community is sterling."

"Did you have a nice ride with Agent Blye?"

"Excuse me?"

"Miss Blye."

"Yes, Kensi is a lovely young woman. Her CV said she spoke a number of languages. She was the logical choice in the group to accompany me to Terminal Island."

"Agent Callen speaks a number of languages, as does Agent Hanna. And you're fluent in any number of languages."

"My French is awful. Hetty, we rode out to Terminal Island. I bought Agent Blye a chocolate shake because I needed a burger and then we dealt with Mr. Nassib's final act."

"She's an excellent agent."

"She wouldn't be on your team if she wasn't."

"Agent Blye is on my team," Hetty made clear. "And it is where I expect her to stay."

"It is my policy to speak to the supervisors of any person I am interested in recruiting before I even discuss positions in Honos with anyone. You can check with Detective Deeks's LAPD boss. I met Roger Bates for the first time in the Green Zone in Iraq back in 2003. Cleared my pitch for Deeks with Roger back in 2009. You can check if you don't believe me."

"Oh, of course I believe you."

"And I do believe I put Detective Deeks on NCIS's radar," Genevieve said with a smile. "You're welcome."

"I was aware of him but your interest interested me." Hetty said returning the smile. "But you understand my position – it takes years to put together a team like mine. I'd like to keep them together as long as possible."

"Of course. And an agent like Kensi – forensic specialist, sniper skills, good with knives, multi-lingual. She's Kim, Damien and Michael all rolled into one."

"And quite happy in working in Los Angeles."

"As I am with my team in New York," Genevieve replied.

"As long as we're on the same page."

"Always, Hetty, always."

Eric walked into the main conference area. "We're live with the body cams. Once they start moving, we'll have full video."

"Excellent. Have you enjoyed your time here with Honos, Mr. Beale?"

"Yes, it's been great. I mean Ops is great too but this is…"

Genevieve started to laugh. "Eric, I think Hetty is concerned I may have turned you and the rest of the team to the Honos side of the force."

"Oh no. I mean, it is an honor to work with Honos and you guys have such cool…"

"We have the best toys," Genevieve said with pride.

"Yes, you do. But California is my home and NCIS's tools are awfully good."

"Tell us when they're ready to go, Mr. Beale," Hetty said, dismissing Eric.

"Hetty, you have all California people on this team. I'm not bringing any of them home with me when we're done here."

"Honos could operate anywhere."

"I have a team of New York people, starting with me."

"I saw the General was teaching at West Point."

"Twice a week he leaves at way too early o'clock and teaches three classes. He's happy. And when he's happy, I'm happy."

"Signs of a strong marriage," Hetty said.

"We're doing great, as are both of our work teams. Besides Hetty, you know my favorite Neil Simon line about New York and Los Angeles."

Hetty nodded. "When it is 20 degrees in New York in January, it is 84 in Los Angeles. When it is 95 degrees in New York in August, it is 84 in Los Angeles…"

"And there are 8 million interesting people in New York, it is 84 in Los Angeles," Genevieve provided the punchline.

"I always believed my team was part of the 84."

"Your team is first among the 84," Genevieve agreed.

x-x-x

Sitting in a black panel van parked across the street from the auto body shop, Kensi, Deeks, Damien and Kim waited for the signal to go.

"Callen will do his best to keep Ester safe," Deeks told Damien.

"Yeah," Damien said, openly ignoring the no-smoking notices inside the van.

"Callen is a sucker for a kid with a sad family story. Dead mother, absent father. That's Callen's story too."

"No shit."

"No shit," Deeks confirmed.

"If that was me, it would piss me off," Kim joined the conversation. "Grew up with hard times, didn't use it as an excuse to do bad things. Ester would piss me off." She quickly added, "Sorry Damien."

"No, she had choices. Made bad ones," Damien took a last, long drag on his cigarette. "I just don't want to see her get hurt."

"Lights are out in the house," Callen's voice came over the coms. "1:05AM and they're calling it a night."

"I'm cutting power now," Eric said from the crib. "The body shop and the house are now off the grid."

"Mr. Callen, take your team now," Hetty ordered. "Captain Scott, you do the same."

"Be careful," Genevieve added.

"Yes ma'am," Damien said as he opened the van door.

Deeks and Kensi saw Callen and Sam leading the tactical team into the house. They had the hazmat team in a white panel van parked in front of the body shop ready to go. Damien pounded on the white van back door, getting them ready to move.

The tactical team went to the back of the house while Callen picked the lock.

"If you see the targets going for anything in a canister, bottle or vial, assume it is the small pox serum," Sam instructed the team. "If any becomes airborne, close yourself into the room – shut the windows, shut the doors, close off vents, push blankets, towels, your shirt if need be under the door opening and order an evacuation."

"Got ya' Sam," Wesley said.

"I'm in," Callen said. "Wes, we'll have the back door opened in a second."

"Kensi, status?" Sam asked.

"Kensi's picking the lock at the body shop's office door," Deeks answered.

"Deeks, anything gets airborne," Callen warned as he walked through the house.

"We heard," Scott said.

"Got the door," Kensi said.

Callen let Wesley and the tactical team in. Sam joined them in the kitchen. "Nobody on the first floor."

Wesley stationed two tactical team members at the front and back doors. Sam lead Callen, Wesley and the rest of the team to the second floor.

All three bedroom doors were closed. Taking out the mini snake camera with a night vision lens, Wesley pushed it under the door. Pulling out his phone, he saw two twin beds each with a sleeping occupant. Passing the phone to Callen, he moved to the second door. Again, two twin beds with two occupants. The third bedroom seemed empty.

Sam signaled on three. Simultaneously, the doors opened with the team rushing in. If there was a plan to defend themselves, the no longer sleeping men did not have the opportunity. The team's H&K MP5A3 took away any decisions the men may have made.

"No Ester," Wesley told the team. Third bedroom was empty.

"Check the basement," Deeks suggested as they entered the body shop.

"There should be a door off the living rooms stairs that leads to the basement," Eric said, looking the building plans. "I'm restoring power to the house."

Two tactical team members slowly made their way down the stairs and to the basement door. They were able to turn on the lights.

Kensi, Deeks, Damien and Kim cleared the body shop's empty office. Moving toward the main floor of the body shop, they found large boxes on pallets.

"What's that, Miss Blye?" Hetty asked, looking at the screen.

Reading the side of the box, Kensi said "Metered air freshener dispensers."

"Don't open anything," Genevieve ordered. "Get hazmat in there right now."

"It's…" Deeks started.

"They're the aerosols that are automatically sprayed in public restrooms," Genevieve said.

"And this pallet is going to the Los Angeles Unified Public School system," Deeks said.

"The Getty Museum," Damien read another label.

"LA County courthouse," Kim said.

"Mr. Beale, I need an immediate alert sent to any large organization that purchased janitorial supplies in the last few weeks. Nothing is to be opened."

"On it, Hetty," Eric answered.

"Oh my God," Wesley's voice came across the coms.

"Mr. Norris?" Hetty inquired.

"I've got a naked Asian man in leg irons sitting on a bed crying."

"Oh, this just gets better by the minute. Who do we have here who speaks Mandarin?" Genevieve asked.

"I do," Hetty said. Pulling out her phone, she called Agent Norris's cell. When Wesley put Hetty on speaker, she offered words of assurance to the man.

"No Ester?" Damien asked. "Hazmat is in the body shop, we need power."

"And you shall have it," Eric brought restored electricity to the body shop.

"We're making our way to you guys," Kensi said.

"Kim, Damien, stay with the hazmat team," Genevieve ordered.

Damien objected. "I…"

"You want to help find Ester, I know," Genevieve said. "The hazmat team needs to be protected. So does what looks like enough small pox serum to kill everyone on the West Coast. Stay in the body shop," Genevieve ordered. "Am I clear Captain?"

"Yes ma'am," he said reluctantly.

As Kensi and Deeks walked into the house, the four men from the bedroom, including Wilmer Nava were sitting on the living room floor in handcuffs.

"We got a bigger problem," Sam said motioning Kensi and Deeks into the kitchen.

A 12x12x12 box sat on the kitchen counter opened, tilting, there were cardboard dividers inside the box with eight unmarked aerosol cans and one obviously missing can. "Ester's in the wind and if this is what I think this is, she's got the last can of the virus."

-30-

* * *

Annoying author's notes: In the home stretch here. Probably two chapters left. Thank you so much for reading, favoriting and sending feedback. It is a gift.


	8. 08 - More and More Impeccable

**Chapter Eight:** "The living are made of nothing but flaws. The dead, with each passing day in the afterlife, become more and more impeccable to those who remain earthbound." ― Anna Godbersen, "Splendor"

* * *

Eric walked into the canteen of the crib and nearly ran over Nell. She was leaving with a cup of coffee and a Maple Glazed Pecan and Sea Salt Kind Bar.

"You left before I woke up," he said, trying not to sound hurt.

"They called me to come in. Besides, you didn't wake me up when you got in last night. I left a note."

"It was almost three when I finally got in."

"And they called for me at five."

With a big smile, Eric said, "We're too important to the whole operation."

"Don't you forget it," Nell said with a smile.

Looking around, Eric pulled Nell back into the canteen. "I had the weirdest conversation with Hetty yesterday."

"About what?" Nell sat at one of the tables, Eric sat just to her right.

"I think Hetty thinks Genevieve wants to steal me."

"Steal you?"

"Hetty wanted to know if I was happy working with Honos. She asked me in front of Genevieve."

"What did you tell Hetty?"

"That it's great working with the team but California is my home."

"Then what's the problem?"

"Look at this place? Do you think you get an operation like this without…"

"Making an enemy of Hetty Lange? No you don't. Beale, you're not going anywhere. You get places like this by making people like Hetty your ally. If there were other people like Hetty. Which there are not."

"It would be nice to be wanted," Eric said with a sigh.

"You're assuming you're not," she said, giving him a quick peck on the cheek. "I'll be at my desk. I have a lot going on."

Nell return to her desk and was quickly joined by Eric, his 30-ounce stainless steel coffee tumbler and a cheese Danish. "Why did they call you in?"

"Assistant Director Granger is working with Honos's liaison with the State Department. The man the team found in the basement is a Chinese national named Yu Zhao, a well-respected serologist. He came to the U.S. in January to study at Scripps Research Institute. He took a road trip Easter weekend and never returned. The Chinese government has been demanding his return ever since."

"State is going to have a hard time explaining where he's been without going public with the case."

"That's not the problem. He wants to defect. As miserable as he was being held hostage, he liked what he saw of California and wants to stay."

"What's going to happen?"

"Hetty and Granger are bringing in Nate and a translator to talk to Mr. Zhao. If he really wants to stay, he should be able to stay. Honos's translator had him explain his role with Ester."

"Which was?"

"He designed a vaccine for the small pox. Honos is looking for a chemist or serologist who is fluent in Mandarin to see if they can recreate it. They don't want to get any chemical data from him to be lost in translation." Nell shook her head. "This is a mess."

"Oh it gets worse," Genevieve said walking in with Michael, who traded his wheelchair for a cane. "Eric, anything positive with facial recognition search for Ester?"

Eric put his computer monitor images on the large TV screens in the work area. "I have facial rec running at all the major transportation hubs, airports and even the LA subway. Ester Kamali's driver's license and passport photos are in every rental car computer system. We're pulling down security camera footage as well as traffic cam data trying to find Ester. So far, nothing."

"Nobody saw Ester leave the house during the raid?" Nell asked.

"No one," Michael said. "I'm not sure when but at some point during the day, she not only left but she left with the canister of the small pox virus. The men in the household have been very protective of Ester."

"We've sent alerts to all her old high school friends, as you requested," Eric told Genevieve.

"The FBI has someone at her aunt's old place in Malibu. I also asked them to send her picture to any homeless or domestic violence shelters to make sure she's not hiding there," Genevieve said, stifling a yawn. "I'm waiting for a call from the FBI in Santa Barbara."

"Do you think she's going back to Cindy Greer's house?" Eric asked.

"No. Nolan, the high school teacher in the basement at Cindy Greer's house."

"The good Samaritan," Nell said.

"Yah, not so much," Michael said. "He's in the middle of a rather nasty divorce. The future ex-wife reported him missing because he didn't appear at scheduled settlement hearing with his lawyer. Any guess on the lawyer?"

"Justin Dunn, the lawyer who lost his finger and was held in the basement," Nell answered.

"Very smart," Genevieve said. "And do you know how a high school math teacher can afford a four-million-dollar beach house in Santa Barbara?"

"Wealthy wife?" Eric guessed. "Well, son to be wealthy ex-wife?"

"Yes, Maureen Greene-Nolan's family runs one of the larger farming concerns in northern California. And she has a rather rock solid pre-nup. They both do. David Nolan's family has been making cleaning supplies for schools, hospitals and other public facilities since the 1960's," Genevieve replied.

"Leo Kamali had a facility in Russia to not only test the small pox virus on inmates he acquired from Black Bear prison but he made sure they had the equipment to put the virus in canisters that could be loaded into air filtration systems and in asthma inhalers," Michael explained.

"Nolan Industrials has several facilities in and around the Los Angeles area that package and produce their own cleaning supplies. Their facility in Riverside was closed last month for retooling. The entire staff was given a two month paid vacation while the facility was closed. Around the same time, an offshore account was sent five million from BrandOn!"

"And David Nolan owns that account," Nell guessed.

"Our forensic accountant is working on that right now. We've done some more checking into Justin Dunn, the divorce lawyer, but he still seems to be the only victim in the basement right now," Geneveieve said.

Eli waved to Genevieve. "Excuse me," she said as she walked away.

"How is Brandon?" Nell asked Michael about their charge from the prior day.

"It looking more and more like he's the financer here without any real input in what was being done. He had his plans and schemes. Nassib and the crew working with the small pox, they were trying to recreate what Leo was planning." Michael shook his head.

"We've got every military base stateside checking their cleaning supplies. Anything from Nolan Industrials is being removed by Hazmat teams."

"Leo's plans were fluid, though. It started with a team of men and women exposing US and UK military personnel to small pox and using them to spread the virus throughout the West. It ended with Leo standing in a public square in Berlin alone with one last canister."

"Public square," Eric said, before typing furiously on his keyboard.

"Eric?" Michael and Nell asked simultaneously.

"We're looking for Ester as if she wants to leave Los Angeles," Eric said.

"With her father's connections and probably some hidden bank accounts, Ester could be smuggled anywhere either by men loyal to her father or by men looking for payouts," Michael said.

"Or she could be here to succeed where her father failed," Eric thought out loud.

Genevieve returned. "Wilmer Nava is being helpful."

"Who is questioning him?"

"Eli has pulled out his old Mossad identification cards. Seems Mr. Nava has done some very bad things in Israel. He's also done some very bad things in Russia, Hong Kong, Saudi Arabia and Johannesburg. And then there is the murder of Mr. Zhao."

"Zhao's in the hospital," Nell said.

"He's just been given asylum and the Marshal service is working on a new identity for him. With a failed bombing attempt International Finance Centre back in 2009, Nava's already a wanted man in China. Eli explained the differences between Israeli prisons and Chinese prisons. He got chatty after that."

"Anarchists are chatty to start with," Michael mumbled.

"I think Nava thought he could keep his mouth closed and get a deal with Justice. It was explained to him that he's not in custody with the U.S. right now, we're just holding him for either Mossad, the FSB, the MSS, the GIP or the SSA."

"He's not in the federal detention center?"

"No, Michael brought him to an offsite location. Eli was working him most of the night."

Eric's computer beeped. "I found her," he said, sending the image to all the screens in the crib. Sleeping on a bench in Pershing Square was Ester Kamali..

"Get everyone down there now," Genevieve ordered. "Get her before she kills anyone."

Nell sent out the alert to the team.

"Eli, take Michael," Genevieve started to say.

"Who will be watching you?" Eli interrupted.

"I'm staying here, we have a whole staff that will make sure I'm fine," Genevieve argued. "I'm fine. Take Michael to the team. Michael, make sure Damien doesn't get himself or anyone else killed trying to save Ester."

"He's going to try to save her," Michael said.

"He can try. If she goes to release to small pox, she has to be stopped."

"Agreed." Eli said solemnly.

"We'll have a tactical team, Callen, Sam, Kensi, Deeks, Kim and Damien at Pershing Square in twenty minutes. A hazmat team is also on their way," Nell reported.

"Keep them nearby but not out in public. Panic could help Ester escape." Turning to Michael, Genevieve said, "Michael, I want her brought in alive if possible."

"But if she's going to release the virus, she has to be stopped."

"You understand that, make damn sure Damien does."

"Yes ma'am."

"Should I call LAPD?" Eric asked.

"Get them to quietly and slowly evacuate the area. Keep everyone several blocks away. Find out what way the wind is blowing and make sure those areas are evacuated first. Nobody should make a move on Ester – she looks like she's asleep – until we have as much of the area emptied out as possible."

Hetty's face popped up on several screens. "Director, we have the team on their way to Pershing Square. Agent Martinez and Captain Scott were just entering the boatshed to question one of the men from the raid last night when the call came in."

"Excellent. Thank Owen for dealing with State for me. I am not their favorite person."

"He got that impression."

"They're in the diplomacy business, I'm not."

"That was made clear. We should be live with video of Ester's arrest in less than twenty-minutes"

"Thank you Hetty. And thank you for your team's hard work and professionalism." Genevieve pulled out her cell phone. "Lt. Bates, it's Genevieve Fitzgerald. I need a favor."

x-x-x

Callen, Sam, Kensi and Deeks pulled into a parking garage in their large black Tahoe . The garage had been the first place evacuated – the only vehicles were Honos's Escalade, the Hazmat Unit's trucks and the tactical team's two panel vans.

Kim and Michael were waiting outside their SUV. Tossing the two kevlar vest, Sam handed Kim an H&K MP5A3 before pulling Damien aside.

"Are you going to be a problem?" Sam asked.

"Look, she's done a terrible thing," Damien tried to explain.

"She's at the heart of the plan to use a weapon of mass destruction against American citizens. Citizens you swore to protect, in a country you swore to protect when you joined the Army. You going to be able to do that today?"

"She'll listen to me."

"She plans on killing you. The way her father planned on killing you. And Stonebridge. And Martinez and everyone else in Section 20 in Berlin."

"Give me a chance. I saved her life several times. She saved mine more than once," Damien said.

"And you are part of the team who killed her father. Rightly killed her father. And you're not going to be able to put on bow on that."

"No, I'm not. But I can fucking well try to not kill a teenager whose mother died giving birth to her, whose father was killed before her eyes. She's lost everyone and everything she loves."

"What I love, what Callen, Kensi, Deeks and everyone else who makes Los Angeles their home loves is lost if she released the virus. If you can't do this…"

"I can do this. Death is all I'm good at," Damien said taking the rifle. "I just want to talk her into surrendering before everyone decides to blow her fucking head off."

"We good here?" Callen asked as he walked over.

Sam looked at Damien. "We're good."

Damien nodded his head. "Well, I could use a cigarette."

There was a truck horn blast as the team turned to the entrance ramp. Guns raised, Deeks yelled "Out of the truck, now!"

"Always happy to follow the order of a fellow LAPD detective," Matt Bernhart said as he opened the FillYourFridge delivery truck.

"Matt, why are you here?" Sam asked.

"Got a call from Bates. Seems he's besties with the woman from the Justice Department running whatever you do," Matt answered as he pointed to Damien.

"Director Fitzgerald," Kim said.

"Strange first name for a woman," Matt said with a shrug. "They want me to bring you guys in. LAPD knows you're going in a FillYourFridge truck."

"Matthew, our target might have a biological weapon."

"Protect and serve, Martin. Protect and serve. Besides, Mom's literacy charity has a lunch in the Biltmore Gold Room tomorrow – I'm her date. Can't have some sort of chemical war break out a block away."

"You drop us off and you get the hell out of there Matt," Kensi said.

"I haven't had my shots, I'll be gone, I promise."

"It's not going to be that way. She'll listen," Damien said.

"Power of positive thinking, I like it," Matt said. "Your target is in the Palm Court sleeping near Beethoven. Let's get things done."

"Eric, you have us?" Sam asked.

"I do. We have most of the park emptied out. There are two homeless men near Ester who wouldn't leave."

"Are we sure they're homeless?" Deeks asked. "There have been a number of men in this case who are willing to take care of Ester at all costs."

"There is an older man with a bad looking left leg. I'd say he's definitely homeless. The other man is disheveled but his jacket is in a lot better shape than Artie."

"Who's Artie?" Damien asked as he walked to the truck.

"Deeks's homeless coat," Kensi answered.

"You name your clothes?" Damien gave Deeks a look.

"You don't?" Deeks replied.

"Everyone, in the truck," Callen ordered. Showing the team his phone, "We've got eyes on Ester and we need to get to her before she makes a move."

Matt warned LAPD they were coming as he rode out of the Central Parking Garage with the tactical team truck just behind him. "You still wearing your terrible vest?" Matt asked Deeks.

"Not now."

"Because I got one on under my shirt – much better coverage."

"How far out?" Sam asked.

"When I stop for the next light, hop out. You'll be on the corner of where your target is. Good luck."

"Thanks Matt," Callen said.

"Always happy to help."

Bernhart pulled over as he waited in the empty intersection for the light to change. Deeks was out first with Kensi and Kim just behind him. Sam, Damien and Callen pulled up the rear.

"I think I can talk to her," Damien said to Callen.

"Fine, you get one chance. Kensi, high cover. Deeks, check out our homeless situation. Sam and Kim will be with me." Callen looked at Damien. "You go when I tell you."

"Yes sir," Damien said.

It took Kensi a minute to see find a place to set up. Once she was established, Deeks made his way into the park.

"First homeless man here is a regular. He was here when Kensi and I were working the park in the Goodsell case."

"Can you move him out?" Callen asked.

"Not without creating a scene."

"Keep him there," Sam said.

Eric's voice came across the comms. "Homeless man number two. Should be at the benches near the fountain."

"On it," Deeks replied.

"Damien, get your girl," Callen said.

"Kensi, you ready for this?" Sam asked.

"I'm good."

"She's a kid," Sam said sympathetically.

"With the small pox virus. And you, Callen, Deeks and our friends from New York are nearby. I don't want to hurt anyone but I will protect you all."

Damien crossed into the park with Kim trailing him. Callen and Sam stationed themselves just outside the Palm Court of the park near the bottom of the stairs.

With his rifle pointed down, Damien made his way toward Ester.

"I was wondering when you'd find me," Ester said as she opened her eyes.

"Ester, you need to come in with me."

"I didn't like that safe house. It was going to be too easy for your people to find."

"We found it. And the men who use to work for your father," Damien said calmly.

"Me. They work for me. They were loyal to my father and now they're loyal to me."

"So loyal they're telling everything to the FBI. Your husband, Nassib, Nava – everyone is talking," Damien lied about Nassib. "Even the jogger we thought was an innocent bystander."

"He took millions to put the small pox in schools and hospitals all over LA. I gave him $100,000 just for this," Ester pulled out the aerosol can and stood up.

"Ester has the small pox in her hand," Kensi said.

Deeks started running toward Damien and Ester.

"Do you have a shot, Kensi?" Callen asked.

"Yes, tell me when to take it."

"Let Scott see if he can get her to go with him," Sam said.

"She makes a move to take the cap off, Kensi…" Callen added.

"I'll stop her."

Damien pleaded with the girl. "Ester, is this what you want?"

"It's what my father wanted."

"And how did that end for him?" Damien tried to take a step forward but Ester raised the can.

"Michael shot him. You held me back while Michael killed him. And Col. Locke shot him too. I heard he got killed."

"Col. Locke was murdered."

"Just like my Dad."

Damien shook his head. "No, your father was killed when he was going to release small pox in a park just like this. Ester, you don't want to wind up like your father. You have…"

"A life? Brandon's going to jail, probably for life. I'm going there too."

"You open that cap, you won't have anything, Ester. Not a chance at a life, not a future, nothing. Not even someone to mourn you."

"You'd be sorry," Ester taunted Damien.

"No. The Ester I knew was funny and kind. She begged her father to share the cure to the small pox so he could die a good man."

"You don't think he died a good man."

"You do. And that's what matters. You release that, you'll die and Brandon, Nava and the rest will know you died trying to kill other people."

"Nava will like that."

"No he won't – you'll fail. There are people all over this park ready to kill you. I'm your last hope."

"And how did that work out for my father? For that Russian man and his son."

"'That Russian man' was a mobster and a drug dealer. So was his son. Your father wanted to kill innocent people."

"Innocent people die all the time," Ester cried. "My father told me that. He also told me that people like me are allowed to live in a world where we are safe."

"And releasing the virus is going to make you safe? How? You'll be hunted for the rest of your life. And you won't' be hunted long because there are people here in the park who are ready to kill you."

"Let them try."

A shot rang out as a homeless man aimed a gun at Damien. When the homeless dropped, Deeks was standing there with his rifle. "Second homeless man neutralized," Deeks told the team.

"End this Damien," Sam said.

"Ester, the next bullet is going into you. Put the can down. I'll go to every court hearing, I'll make sure you're treated fairly."

"People like me are never treated fairly. Not me, not my father and not my mother. And everyone else needs to understand that," Ester said, pulling the cap off the aerosol can. "And they'll understand that now…"

Before Ester could finish her sentence, Kensi fired from her perch on the wall near the fountain. The bullet tore into Ester's right arm, just above the elbow. As the can fell from her hand, Damien scrambled to catch it. He grabbed it just before it hit the ground.

"I have the aerosol can," Damien said.

Ester tried to kick at Damien but he took one step back.

"I wanted people to suffer like my mother suffered," Ester sneered.

"Your mother was killed in an attack and yes, she suffered. She was also a doctor who would have never wanted this for you," Damien pointed his weapon at her as Kim, Callen and Sam raced in.

"My father wanted all of this."

"He did. He was wrong and so are you," Damien took off his belt and started to make a tourniquet for Ester's arm.

"We need a bus for Ester," Deeks said as he walked to the down woman. "Only Ester."

"Oh thank God," Genevieve's voice came over the coms.

The hazmat team made its way into the park while the tactical team checked the Metro station and the underground parking lot for anyone else helping Ester. The ambulance arrived, as did Michael and Eli.

"Who let you out?" Kim said to Michael as he walked toward Damien.

"Genevieve thought I'd have to talk Damien into doing what had to be done."

"He did what had to be done," Kim told her husband. "I think our boy is growing up."

"God help us all," Michael said shaking his head. Walking over to Damien, Michael took Damien's weapon and kevlar vest. "Go with Ester to the hospital, I'll deal with the paperwork and the boss lady."

"Thanks Mikey."

x-x-x

Callen, Sam, Kensi, Deeks, Eric and Nell joined the Honos team around the large screen in the center of the crib. Damien was still in the hospital waiting for word on Ester's surgery.

The ZNN Breaking News banner read "Terror attempt stopped in Los Angeles" as reporter Stuart Dunston briefed the home viewers about the upcoming press conference.

"2:30 is a weird time for a press conference," Eric said.

"2:30 here, 5:30 at home," Kim said.

"Stock market is closed in New York but the markets open in Hong Kong and Tokyo in a few hours. Thwarting a terrorist attack in a major American city is always good for business," Hetty said as she entered the room with Owen Granger.

"And the people who approve budgets for places like this," Granger said, looking around the cribs, "are about to sit down and have dinner with their families, or in their offices, or with constituents or fundraisers. Dinners they'll enjoy safely thanks to NCIS and Honos."

"And LAPD," Deeks added.

"Yes Detective, and LAPD," Hetty agreed.

"How was it dealing with State, Assistant Director?" Nell asked.

"Genevieve owes me a some very expensive sushi and some quality scotch the next time I'm in New York. Mr. Zhao, however, is about to defect. Marshal Ben-Aharon is working with his agency to find set up a new identity for Zhao, who is about to get a crash course in English and start working for both Honos and Columbia University."

"He got a happy ending."

"He's going to gets months of therapy and Genevieve is going to make his life as comfortable as possible. We've set up Nassib as a killer and well, you can hear the official story yourself." Granger pointed to the screen.

Genevieve walked up to the podium in the Wilshire Federal Building's Media Room. Standing on a blue box behind the clear podium, she pulled down the microphone murmuring, "Not everyone is six feet tall, people."

"That wasn't an accident," Kim said with a smile.

"No, Ms. Martinez, I'm sure it was not," Hetty agreed.

"Good afternoon. Early this morning, a raid was led by members of the Department of Homeland Security, NCIS and the Los Angeles Police Department."

"Yay for the LAPD mention," Deeks cheered.

"The surviving members of a failed terrorist cell that was largely smashed by British Intelligence in Berlin in the fall of 2013 reformed in Lebanon last summer. Coming to Los Angeles, DHS tracked the small cell, finding a supply of a biological weapon. The weapon has been secured, as have all members of the terror cell except for this man," Genevieve said as she held up a remote and pointed to a television screen behind her. "David Nolan of Santa Barbara is wanted for accepting funds from a terror group and for using his family business to create a distribution system a biological weapon. The DHS is offering a five million dollar reward for the successful arrest and conviction of Mr. Nolan. If you know where Mr. Nolan is, please call 213-555-4959. Mr. Nolan, if you are listening, the men and women who found the bioweapon and stopped your attempt to kill innocent civilians here in Los Angeles are now looking for you. You will be found. You will be arrested. Of this I am sure."

"Though she be but little, she is fierce," Michael said with a smile.

Genevieve started to take question from the members of the press present. She passed on mentioning the real name of the bioweapon, fearing copycats. She also never mentioned Brandon Bryant, Ester Kamali or Wilmer Nava, instead heaping praise on DHS, NCIS and LAPD. It was an artful press conference given by a woman who has had 20-years of practice.

Deeks's phone ran just as the press conference started to wrap up.

"It was nice of the most powerful tiny woman East of the Mississippi to mention LAPD on the same level as NCIS which is run by the most powerful tiny woman West of the Mississippi. I'm hope we get whatever new toy Genevieve sends NCIS."

"She's usually good for that."

"Well in the spirit of cooperation, I need you and your partner to pick up Bernhart at his apartment."

"Is he OK?" Deeks worried.

"He's perfect. Well, he's perfect for Bernhart. Which isn't all that perfect. David Nolan's ex-wife just called LAPD with his location. She's on vacation in Hawaii and saw the press conference. She'd prefer LAPD knock down the door to her new house in Brentwood instead of the full weight of the US government."

"Can I bring Callen and Sam?"

"Bring whoever you need. Just remember, LAPD's bust."

"You got it." Deeks turned to the team. "LAPD knows where Nolan is."

"Let's finish this," Sam said.

-30-

* * *

Annoying author's note: One chapter left. Thank you all for reading and for following along. The feedback has been a joy to read.


	9. 09 - Not This Good at Anything Else

**Chapter Nine:  
** Stonebridge: "So does that mean you're staying."  
Scott: "Of course I am, buddy. I'm not this good at anything else."  
Stonebridge: "And you're not that good at this."  
\- "Strike Back: Shadow Warfare" episode 10.

* * *

As the team finished their after-action reports, building the case against Master Sergeant Anderson for the theft of semtex from the China Beach Naval Station, Eric and Nell made their way into the bullpen area.

"The esteemed Henrietta Lange and Assistant Director Owen Granger respectfully request your presence in the armory at this time," Eric announced.

"What did we do now?" Deeks asked as he, and the rest of the team, closed their laptops.

"I did nothing more than my job," Sam replied. "And I did it with my usual level of excellence."

"Of course," Callen agreed as they start to make their way to the armory.

"We all kicked some ass on this case," Kensi said with some pride.

"Right here guys," Deeks said. He was largely marginalized in this case – Sam was in the field as Chief Hanna, Kensi undercover as a Lieutenant and Callen as a Lt. Commander all assigned to China Lake. Deeks was assigned as a private contractor. He never got near Anderson or the missing semtex.

"You wound up finding that Petty Officers Shepard and Samuels were stealing supplies from the motor pool and selling them to a local chop shop," Nell said. "That is something."

"When you're tired of us, you can go back to the auto theft division. Maybe you can find out what happened to my 1984 Toyota Celica GTS," Eric said to Deeks.

"I'm not going back," Deeks mumbled.

"You had a Celica?" Kensi asked, a little surprised.

"My step dad had a Celica. I wound up with it when he traded it in for an Acura Integra. A year later, he traded my Mom in for his secretary," Eric said with a shrug.

"And that just turned uncomfortable," Nell added as they walked into the armory.

Hetty was standing with several envelopes in her hand in the back of the armory with Granger standing beside her. There were several large boxes next to the armory's worktables.

"What's up?" Sam asked.

"Yesterday, David Nolan agreed to a 15-year to life sentence for his involvement in the Kamali terror cell's planned small pox attack on Los Angeles. He is the final member of the cell to agree to a deal. As promised, Honos was able to get long sentences for all the participants without a single case going to trial."

"Genevieve's specialty," Deeks noted.

"Yes, Detective Deeks," Hetty nodded. "As is her other practice, the Director has sent a thank you offering for this office's involvement in the case." Hetty pointed to the large boxes on the floor.

"Oh, presents!" Eric said, excited.

"The items in the boxes are for Agents Callen, Hanna and Blye. Detective Deeks, your item is in a box inside one of the boxes."

Sam opened the box closest to him and pulled out a new sapphire blue Kevlar vest. "Nice," Sam said he held it up. The white lettering of NCIS was slightly larger than the team's current vest. While lighter in weight, Kevlar plates in both the front and back of the vest while a Kevlar flap secured with velcro provided protection on the wearer's sides. There were holders for both knives and handguns designed in the underside of the vest.

"Detective Deeks's friend Detective Matt Bernhart wrote a rather an impassioned letter to Director Fitzgerald stating his concern about the team's Kevlar vests," Hetty explained.

Deeks opened a box with his his name on it. Pulling the contents out, he said, "Cool!" Deeks's vest was a midnight blue, more in line with the LAPD Kevlar vests, with NCIS/LAPD LIAISON emblazoned on the organizational nameplate.

"There will be a second round of vests being sent in the next week or so for when these are out at the dry cleaners," Granger said. "The Director has written glowing letters to Leon Vance - and in your case Deeks, Leon Vance and Charlie Beck - about your work with Honos. These will be part of your permanent jacket."

Hetty nodded in approval. "She has also petitioned the Department of Defense to bestow the Navy Meritorious Civilian Service Award for your work on this case."

"That's great," Nell said.

"As for you Mr. Beale, Miss Jones, Commander Rehme was impressed with your work in the crib. He admits a preference for NCIS and the Office of Special Projects because of his daughter but even his staff not aware of this team's involvement with the Amanda Rehme's rescue were impressed with your work."

"Go Team Bones," Eric said as he high-fived Nell.

"Bones?" Granger asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Yeah, like Brangelina or Bennifer," Eric said with some pride. "B from Beale…"

"Moving on," Hetty said after clearing her throat. "The Commander and his team in Honos have created a new system that incorporates all current surveillance programs, most modern security cameras, facial recognition, government and financial records. In its testing stage, BACKGROUND is currently ten times faster than the programs we are using in Ops."

"Wow," Nell was impressed.

"The Commander wants an agency outside of Honos to start employing it when it goes live in their offices next month. He would like that agency to be NCIS's Office of Special Projects," Hetty said.

"Leon Vance has already signed off on you two spending a week in New York for training and supervising the installation of BACKGROUND on our systems," Granger added.

Hetty handed Eric and Nell envelopes. "Do not get too comfortable with Director Fitzgerald's budget for travel."

"Wow," both Eric and Nell said. First class plane tickets and a week at Ritz-Carlton at Battery Park.

"And this is a personal gift from the Director for all your hard work." Hetty handed the envelope in her hand to Nell.

"Oh, wow," Nell said showing the envelope contents to Eric.

"Awesome!" Eric said with a big smile.

"Come on guys, share," Kensi asked.

"These are orchestra seats to 'Hamilton' – seventh row, center, orchestra," Eric told the group.

"Those are the best seats in the house," Deeks said. As the entire team turned to look at him, he added, "I like quality seats. Seventh row is eye level with the stage in most Broadway theatres."

"Detective Deeks is correct," Hetty agreed.

Taking the conversation back to Los Angeles, Granger addressed the group. "You all did great work on this case. The Director also wants to invite the team, Michelle Hanna and Matt Bernhart for a night of dinner and drinks at Bourbon Steak tomorrow. She's reserved the terrace for us starting at seven. She'd like Michelle and Matt there because of their involvement with the team."

"Nice." Callen said.

"Michelle isn't going to mind a fun Saturday night out," Sam said.

"And Detective Deeks can reassure Detective Bernhart that he is now properly protected when he's in the field," Hetty said. "It's been a busy week, please, finish up and go home."

"Don't need to tell me twice," Callen said.

"Michelle wanted to try a new place for date night," Sam was smiling. "Bourbon Steak sounds like a good start."

"How do you think the Director knew we were fans of 'Hamilton'?" Eric asked.

"You two were singing or humming "The Room Where It Happens" on and off the whole time you were in the crib," Deeks noted.

"And everyone in that room is based in New York," Nell said.

"But not everyone is a 'Hamilton' fan," Eric protested.

"Enough probably are," Deeks said. "Enjoy the tickets. I'll wait until it finally makes it way out here." Deeks turned to Kensi, "I need to pick up Monty at the groomers."

"I'll see you at home," she said. "Hey, the groomers are near…"

"Brooklyn Johnny's," Deeks was already planning a stop. "Meatball Parm?"

"Please," she said with a grin. "You know me so well."

Kensi returned to her desk and found a large envelope. She picked it up and looked at it.

Deeks was putting his messenger bag strap over his shoulder. "Kensi?"

"It's from the office of The Commandant of the Marine Corps."

"Why would the Marines be sending you a package?" Callen asked as he shut down his computer.

"I asked them to reconsider the circumstances around my father's death. It wasn't an accident. It was…"

"Line of duty," Sam said. "Your father was murdered because of the illicit actions of a fellow Marine. He was doing the right thing and that should be recognized."

"They're just getting to this now?" Callen asked.

"I didn't think to apply until the summer after when…" Kensi waved her hand. Her mother suggested asking the Marines to change her father's status during a night of ice cream and "Four Weddings and a Funeral" after she learned about his long undercover with Monica Davis. She filled out all the paperwork alone a night Deeks didn't answer the phone and wasn't replying to her texts. "They wanted more information and set a deadline but those requests came while I was in Afghanistan. I started again after Inspector Wallace left and…"

"Open it Kens. Everyone here knows he died doing the right thing," Deeks said. "If the brass doesn't understand it now, we'll help them understand with you."

"Hoo-rah," Sam said. "I'm in."

"We're a team," Callen said.

Kensi took a deep breath and opened the envelope. Pulling out the top sheet of paper, Kensi started to read. Her eyes filled with tears.

"Kens?" Deeks asked softly.

"It is the opinion of this office that Master Sergeant Donald Blye died as a result of actions to protect the reputation of the Marines and to bring justice to the family of an American citizen. Master Sergeant Blye's death is considered in the line of duty with all honors and benefits bestowed in accordance to the Marine regulations."

Sam walked over and gave Kensi a hug. "The Marines take care of their own. There was never a doubt."

Wiping away a tear, Kensi nodded yes.

"It's good we're having a team night out tomorrow. Now we have more to celebrate than just new Kevlar vests and some fancy new computer programs," Callen said as he gave Kensi a hug. "So glad for you."

"Maybe I'll stop off at Magnolia," Deeks told Kensi as he kissed her on the forehead. "You deserve a red velvet."

"Who deserves a red velvet?" Hetty asked. "I'm quite taken with Magnolia's cupcakes."

"I'll pick one up for you too," Deeks said to Hetty. "I'll bring it to dinner tomorrow."

"Thank you Detective but I am quite satisfied with tomorrow's dinner plans sans cupcake."

As Deeks left, Kensi told Hetty, "The Marines reclassified my father's death as being in the line of duty."

"As well they should," Hetty said. "I'm surprised it took this long."

Not wanting to get into the some of the reason for the delay, Kensi agreed. "I was in paperwork hell."

"Perhaps on Monday I'll make a call to the SecNav and see if any other worthy families are in paperwork hell. See you tomorrow evening, Miss Blye."

"Thanks Hetty," Kensi said as she watched her boss walk away.

Kensi took two forms from the large envelope that needed to be faxed to the VA. A small white envelope fell from the larger one. The white Connor stationery felt good in her hands – and something far too pricy for the Marines. Opening the envelope, the notecard had the name Genevieve Fitzgerald-Jefferson on the top.

 _"Dear Kensi,_

 _I would like to open this note by saying I had nothing to do with the resolution of your father's case before the Marines. Instead, that hard work was done by an outraged Commander Rehme and an equally pissed off General Keith Jefferson, U.S Army Retired and my husband. Nothing like a retired General with hours to kill discussing the proper treatment of the surviving families of fallen heroes with fellow Generals, one powerful Senator and a still outraged Commander Rehme._

 _The Commander found your paperwork sitting in bureaucratic limbo while doing a background check on your team. The more he read, the angrier he got. Since I was in Los Angeles, he found my rather bored husband and the two of them mounted a campaign. Expect a call soon from Senator Dan Lockhart. Both Commander Rehme and Senator Lockhart believe NCIS's Office of Special Projects saved their daughters – I think so too. The Senator wants to make sure no other daughter has to go through the hoops you've been forced to jump through. He wants to speak about the time spent getting what your father and what your family rightly deserved._

 _It was a pleasure working with you and your team - a skilled group of operators that make Hetty the envy of every law enforcement agency. If you are in New York, I'd love to have dinner with you or with you and Detective Deeks. Perhaps discuss the future as the past becomes more settled. And you can assure the Detective that I will have "Hamilton" tickets. I have gotten more done with "Hamilton" tickets in the last 18-months than I ever thought possible. Over 200 years after his death, Alexander Hamilton is still doing so much for his country._

 _Your friend in New York – G_

 _P.S. If Hetty still has that burn room – this note would be an excellent candidate for a trip!"_

Kensi smiled. Deeks probably wasn't ever leaving LAPD, she was never leaving Deeks. She had her father's reputation restored, her relationship with her mother repaired and a career with options. What started as a nightmare with her work family when Damien Scott invaded Sam's home turned out just right.

Thinking of Damien Scott, she whispered "Fuck yeah" before packing up her paperwork – including Genevieve's note to show Deeks – and started home.

Their home.

-30-

* * *

Thank you so much for reading. This was fun – every summer is fun here with all of you. There really aren't the right words to thank you all for your feedback, likes and support. Every summer is just an honor.

Looking forward to a great season eight!

Tess


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